It's Complicated
by fAteD lOvE
Summary: Fake update fake update. You have been warned. Sorry it's not a chapter! I have a perfectly good reason to post blank pages. Just let me sink down the update list quietly haha
1. Tahi: Life in Disguise

Heh. Be warned: No Charah visible on the horizon yet for this fic.

_Life in Disguise_- The Slip

Disclaimer: I can barely be bothered to feed myself, let alone sort out the hate mail from Charah fans on a weekly basis.

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_**IT'S COMPLICATED**_

._**  
**_

CHAPTER ONE

Life in Disguise.

.

_Well the world is only a stage  
And I'm just a man  
With a sound caught in his throat  
And a pick in his hand  
But when the song comes tumbling out you understand  
There's no great demand_

.

_Ah, wedded bliss_, Chuck Bartowski thought as he rustled the newspaper again, intentionally, hoping to get any expression - he'd settle for even annoyance at this point, from his wife.

He almost felt like shouting in triumph as she stared at his reflection through the mirror, still struggling to get her earrings on. It was the most he had been able to get out of her for awhile.

"What?" She asked bluntly, her tone indicating clearly that she didn't expect, or want an answer.

Leaning back into the plump pillows of their bed, he crossed his ankles dejectedly as he simply watched her annoyance morph into cool indifference.

"Nothing,"

Chuck sighed quietly. When it looked like no response or comment would be forthcoming, he couldn't help himself when he added, "I think you look beautiful."

His heart sunk when she simply bent down to tug her heels on, somehow managing to look graceful with her long limbs. The room was dimly lit by the single light on top of the dresser, but the crimson of her cocktail dress burnt through the semi-darkness, into his retinas, onwards to permanently etch itself onto his mind. Her hair was curly, tumbling in loose, casual waves onto her shoulders. He noted offhandedly that it was a nice change- how the lighting cast shadows onto her face, highlighting contours of her chin and eyes: it softened her features.

She was every inch as lovely as when he had first seen her.

The silence in the room was deafening… at least to him. He could hear his stomach squirming uncomfortably in the tension, but she looked perfectly unruffled and unfazed, her face a mask of impassiveness.

At her non-reply, the chasm between them felt even wider than it had yesterday, as if it opened its mouth two centimeters more each day that went by with each word unspoken between them. The golden light seemed colder now when he looked at it again; instead, the shadows it made were black and grey, cold, lonely- like his marriage.

He wished he'd seen the signs: the way they'd just stopped going out, her business trips taking weeks instead of days, how they never just _went out _anymore; he couldn't remember the last time they had breakfast together. When had her kisses start feeling so unemotional? The way they seemed to be living together, but not living it _together_.

From the start, he had wondered, every day, why she had been willing to come back for a second date, third, fourth. He could not justify to himself _why_ she had accepted his proposal, despite knowing full well that he didn't make enough for anything more than this two bedroom-lounge-kitchen apartment on the eighth floor, the only distinguishing factor it had from the other hundreds of rooms; the gleaming silver number that sat on their plain brown door, looking happy on the outside… like them.

Chuck knew he was average, he had an average life, and he was not an exciting man. At the time, catching someone like Sarah Walker was an amazing achievement that he had pursued with the utmost enthusiasm. Now he had the woman, but it was much less than he had imagined it being in his fantasies of their ideal future he'd had when they had exchanged vows.

He knew he couldn't afford to treat her the way she ought to be treated, the way he longed to treat her. She deserved better than him- deserved what he could not give her.

Now all that was left was echoes of laughter and fading memories, forgotten in the midst of this quietness between them.

He wondered where in the track it had started, was it the way he left constantly, assigned to war-torn countries months at a time, leaving Sarah by herself? Or had it been festering from the start, hidden under infatuation and affectionate teasing?

As he stared at her back helplessly, she spoke, and his eyes snapped up to her in the mirror. She wasn't looking at him as she checked herself over again, tugging on her dress to make it sit right.

"Thank you."

With a lump stuck in his windpipe, holding his breath, he tried not to look too shocked at her omission. A bubble of hope fizzled in his chest.

Clearing his throat, he stood up; tossing the unread paper onto the chair positioned randomly against the wall beside the en-suite bathroom door.

"I'll go and warm up the car," He said quietly, glancing back briefly as he made his way to the garage.

.

He watched her get into the car, the door thumping solidly closed as she slid into the seat beside him.

She returned his gaze, impatient. Looking away, he put his hand on the clutch, watching dispassionately as the garage door rolled up slowly, exposing the outside world where they were Mr. and Mrs. Chuck Bartowski- young, happily married couple of two years.

Hearing the click of her seat-belt, and with nothing to distract him from her presence, he clenched his icy hand a few times, stopping abruptly when he remembered the times she used to hold onto it, warming it up herself. With jerky movements, he adjusted the rear view mirror unnecessarily before returning his hand to the gearbox, tracing the BMW logo on the knob, as the fingers of his other hand tapped the wheel in a frantic beat.

Sarah was looking out of the window on her side, and Chuck was almost relieved. As long as she pretended to be interested in something outside, he wouldn't feel the urge to babble to fill the frozen stillness.

Desperate, he reached for the radio, wincing at the scratching that emanated from the speakers. Tuning it, he flipped between stations as he slowly let the car roll out on the long driveway.

_"...your body is a wonderland..."_

James Morrison's voice crooned through the speakers, and Chuck winced. He remembered this song, his body humming to the gentle falls and rises in the music as his lips moved to the lyrics.

But as he kept singing, hands draped casually over the steering wheel, it was too much, and in his haste, he nearly mangled the stereo.

As he fiddled with the buttons, he kept an eye on the road, his melancholy increasing as the streetlights flickered quickly past.

The station was left to blare out music as his attention was pulled away to the approaching traffic lights.

_"..It only hurts when I'm breathing, my heart only breaks when it's beating,"_

Chuck let out a slow breath, almost managing to smile when he thought of Morgan's obsession over 'Canada's greatest gift' of Shania Twain. Her wistful voice twisted its way around his heart, squeezing painfully as she continued to sing through the radio, resonating through the car, her clear voice seeming to penetrate his thoughts.

_"My dreams only die when I'm dreaming, so I hold my breath to forget," _

He almost forgot about the woman beside him as he murmured the words under his breath, "_don't think I'm lying around, crying at night, there's no need to worry, I'm really alright, I've never looked back as a matter of fact,"_

Even his mind was quiet, absorbing the lyrics as if a kind of balm to his soul, words needless as he let the song reflect his thoughts of this past year. Chuck thought he rather liked this kind of denial.

Suddenly, Sarah slammed her palm into the little black box, and it died with a sizzle, the music abruptly cutting off as the suffocating silence in the car became nearly unbearable again.

.

_Well it's there under your breath, behind your eyes  
And you don't have to say nothing cause I realize  
That everything somehow in someway eventually dies  
It's life in disguise_

.

"Chuck!" A brunette woman called as she opened the door, "Sarah!"

Ellie rushed over the threshold, clasping both of them tightly to her body as she shook them in her excitement.

"It's nice to see you too, sis," Chuck said, his beam stretching from one side of his face to the other, holding tightly to her hand as if it were a lifeline, coincidentally no hands spare to hold Sarah's.

"Hi Ellie," Sarah said warmly, and Chuck almost looked at her in surprise; he would have if this was the first time he had seen her change her mood completely in front of his sister. Her normal frigid, almost condescending voice no where in sight, as if it were a new woman beside him… or the former Sarah Walker he had fallen in love with, who now finally made an appearance after an extended vacation. Her jaw was relaxed, not clenched tight as it tended to be whenever she was forced to speak to him alone at home.

"Sarah!" Ellie repeated again fondly, as if looking at a favourite protégé. "How's my baby brother been looking after you?"

There was a pause before Sarah answered, smiling, "Oh, we've stayed out of each others way for the most part."

_Yeah, she wasn't kidding_.

Ellie laughed, pulling her into the house to greet the host, "Well, that's how a successful marriage works!" She said, rolling her eyes, "That's the best way to avoid fights."

_Was it_ ever.

Left alone, Chuck closed the door slowly, resting his forehead against it for a second before turning around.

"Carina!" He cried as he stepped back, straight into the door, knocking the back of his head against it.

She grinned like a mischievous cat. "Hi Chuckles."

Smiling forcefully, Chuck chuckled nervously, "Hi," After a pause, Carina standing there unmoving, he continued, "Uh, could you... you know..."

Carina nodded knowingly, "Of course," She agreed, stepping forward even more, pinning him to the door.

Chuck edged away, finally freeing himself as he circled her, leaving her the one against the door.

"What are you doing here?" Chuck asked, eying her skin tight pants dubiously. She looked down at herself too, seeming unaffected that she was the odd one out in this group of well-dressed couples.

A little seriousness crept into her eyes, but she answered, "I'm Sarah's friend, remember?"

"You don't even know the host," Chuck answered, rolling his eyes.

Carina grinned, shrugging. "Fine. I'm here for Sarah. The boss wants her to go on another trip."

Chuck's heart sank. There went another chance to spend time with his wife. She'd only been back three weeks or so from India. She never discussed the details of any of these trips. At the beginning, she'd placated him with the excuse that it was too complicated and it'd take too long to explain, systematically taking his mind off the subject by distracting him with a kiss. Now, she merely ignored his questions, simply sending him a warning look that instantly halted his questions.

With a tired sigh, he responded, "Business?"

"Business." Carina confirmed with a nod.

Quietly he commented to himself, "It always is." Louder, he says, "Where to this time?"

She waved her hands around lethargically as if pointing to an imaginary map spread between them, "Oh you know..."

"No, I don't," Chuck says harshly, trying to contain the swell of disappointment that rose.

Carina looked at him sharply, an odd look for someone like her. Her features softened to resemble something like sympathy when she caught his unspoken apology. "Berlin. Somewhere near there anyway."

Chuck set his shoulders firmly, determined to close his emotions off from Carina's observant eyes. She'd always been oddly perceptive about his emotions.

"Hasn't she been there already?" He asked, trying to mitigate the bitterness in his tone. _Does she even know Russian? _He knew his wife had a wide knowledge of languages, one of her majors being language, but he had never figured exactly how many she knew.

Looking supremely unconcerned, she shrugged, "Apparently she was very... convincing. Her clients want to do another deal."

Seeing Carina peer at him closely under the guise of picking at her fingernail, he rearranged his features, forcing a smile onto his face, "That's good," He said, but changed the subject, "Are you going to be my babysitter, then?"

Carina laughed, "Only if you want me to be, Charles," She said with a saucy wink. Chuck shook his head. Carina always turned up extra frequently whenever Sarah was away; her only excuse being that Sarah demanded her to keep an eye on him while she was busy. Chuck could hardly believe Sarah would bother with such a thing. He was never able to get through to her phone when she was on these overseas trips. Not even when he made sure he got the time zones right, and rung at a time he was sure she wouldn't be busy with work.

"But I'm going to be away too," She said, "So I'm sorry, we won't be able to have fun while Sarah's away this time."

Chuck's spirits raised an iota, as he couldn't help a little chuckle.

A huge hand clapped his shoulder before he could answer, making him lurch forward.

"Chuck, bro!" Devon boomed behind him, "You're making people suspicious with your little rendezvous with this pretty lady here," He said smirking good-naturedly.

As his brother-in-law steered him away, Carina waved at him. "I'd better be going," She said before slipping soundlessly out the door.

The level of noise increased the closer they approached the main party, and they turned the corner to see Ellie and Sarah sitting in a group of animated women.

"So, Chuck!" Amy called as he came into view with Awesome's arm still slung over his shoulder. "When are you and Sarah going to pop us a kid to play with?"

Chuck froze under the Captain's grip. Involuntarily, his eyes met Sarah's. For the first time in a long time, there was emotion in her eyes as she stared back like a deer caught in headlights. The rest of the women tittered encouragingly as they looked from one to the other. Sarah looked very uncomfortable, hemmed in on both sides by one pregnant woman, and one very overweight one.

Luckily Ellie came to the rescue, despite looking disappointed. She had been bugging him and Sarah to give her baby someone to play with ever since she found out she was pregnant five months ago.

"Don't worry," She assured the other women, winking at Chuck, and nudging Sarah playfully in the ribs, "They will. It's New Years Eve tomorrow night!"

Devon squeezed Chuck painfully as he added boisterously, "Way to herald in the New Year!" He said cheerfully.

Chuck only laughed nervously. He was pretty sure baby-making involved two people, and one possibly would be en route to Berlin before the New Year could even come to pass.

.

_It's your room and your board and your fireside  
It's a shell that's been washed by a million tides  
And if you're there you can see just how bright it shines_

_When there's nobody left in your heart, left in your head  
When the whole world has packed up in shadows and left you for dead  
When you can't fake a smile and you just can't get out of your bed_

_

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_

Ah HA! FL has finally managed to write something that doesn't involve tomato sauce, sappiness and Charah! And I managed to do that without making it introspective, which is a feat in itself :)

It's 1.44am but I've got a day off tomorrow for study leave… that I'm supposed to use to study.

Well, I had this insane plot in my head, so this is me trying to get rid of it. I've only got one chapter written so far. I wonder how long my inspiration for this will last. Oh and the title is temporary till I find a better substitute.

Anyway, what do you think?

…let me start it off for you: "I think it's AWESOME, and…"


	2. Rua: The Drug of Silence

Hi guys! Just wanted to thank you all for the mixed reviews. It's great for me because it tells me how I'm doing as it's hard to judge when you're the one writing. Thanks to mxpw and Myst for the beta! ...and Malamoo for the nagging :)

Just to remind you readers, the story is **AU**, so it in no way connects to canon except when I'm mangling episodes for my own purposes in flashbacks.

It seems really bad now, but you need to **read IN BETWEEN THE LINES**. I'm not going to pander to your incompetence (always wanted to quote that) just because you need everything laid out clearly in front of you so that you don't need to pay attention to the details and figure things out yourself.

There may be a close 'M' here, so this is your **WARNING**.

Disclaimer: I likes fanfiction better, they let me manipulate Chuck and Sarah's relationship to my heart's content

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CHAPTER TWO

The Drug of Silence.

-

_From_ Modern Love, George Meredith.

_...the long darkness flowed away_

_With muffled pulses. Then, as midnight makes_

_Her giant heart of Memory and Tears_

_Drink the pale drug of silence, and so beat_

_Sleep's heavy measure, they from head to feet_

_Were moveless, looking through their dead black years,_

_By vain regret scrawled over the blank wall._

_Like sculptured effigies they might be seen_

_Upon their marriage-tomb, the sword between;_

_Each wishing for the sword that severs all._

-

Chuck sat on the stairs, looking at the pile of suitcases blankly.

His face was distorted in the reflection from the carefully stacked metal briefcases that sat away from the leather bags.

Sarah had bustled around early this morning, making multiple phone calls in her office, muffled and low enough to escape his hearing as he simply moped around the house. Now it was 5.30pm, and she was leaving the next morning… on New Year's Day.

He'd start the New Year without her. She'd leave him behind.

Their bedroom that sat at the top of the stairs had remained off limits to him ever since he'd woken up to get breakfast- she said he'd just get in the way of her packing.

Morosely, he leaned his head against the banister and scanned the sparsely decorated open-plan apartment, furniture modern enough to offset the rather antique walls, door handles and dark, pitted wooden floors. His eyes lingered on the framed picture sitting alone amidst the other family photos including Ellie and Devon. A small smile curved his lips as he looked at his own face grinning broadly back at him while Sarah ducked under his attempted half-successful bear hug. One of his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, the other held high by Sarah, her expression surprised at his ability to creep up behind her.

She looked so happy and young, her face glowing.

Ducking his head, he ran his fingers through his hair before resting his head on his knees.

This whole day, she'd run around him, with not a word, as if he was invisible. He'd caught a strange kind of anticipation on her face, as she read a thin, perfectly smooth sheet of A4 that had arrived in a brown envelope in the mail that morning, red stamps pressed all over the cover.

The footsteps behind him stopped, and she walked down, the vibrations from her weight shaking his body a little. At the bottom, she looked around, counting off a list in her head.

Her unfocused eyes sharpened again, and he guessed she'd reached the end of her tasks, with only one box unchecked in the column.

Him.

She jerked her head towards the kitchen, her words clipped, "Dinner?"

Chuck stared at her wordlessly before getting up, following her lead as she picked up pots and pans.

"What are we making?" he asked lightly, at an attempt of levity.

She glanced at him briefly before answering, "Chicken fettuccini."

He just nodded, and gathered the ingredients, moving easily through the kitchen as she did her own thing. Although they weren't talking, it didn't mean they weren't married, and two years of marriage taught them both about each other— allowing them to work around each other effortlessly.

Reaching up over her head as she stood at the sink, running water covering any sound he made, he scrabbled for a packet of pasta, trying to stand tall enough to peer over the bottom of the cupboard and simultaneously trying to keep his body from brushing hers.

"Woah!" he exclaimed as he caught himself, before realizing her hand was on his chest for balance, her other hand holding a pot filled with sloshing water as she turned around before he could retreat. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him.

The moment was almost electric, and Chuck didn't know whether the energy crackling around them was anger or tension as he stared back at her, confused at the stormy blue of her irises.

_Clang._

He barely paid attention to the dampness that seeped into his socks and trousers, too busy trying not to fall over at her weight on him, her hands in his hair, cupping his cheeks, moving to his belt, her lips almost vicious as she practically devoured him, she was everywhere, clouding his senses pleasantly.

Her skin under her loose shirt was almost like water in a desert, and his nerves tingled in welcome at the familiar terrain that it had been deprived of so long. Any hesitation slipped from his mind as he gripped her hips with his fingers, caressing as she moved against him.

Sarah's soft panting brushed against his chin every time she breathed out, and she let out a little noise when he gave her a boost, her legs wrapping around his waist firmly as he stumbled his way up the stairs to their bedroom.

She was not gentle at all, and as always, she was in control, as he attacked her neck with the same ferociousness she paid to his clothes.

In the morning, all he'd remember would be the way she moaned when he drove into her with aggression unlike him, the way her hips sunk into the mattress every time they met and the way she sighed and her hips curled as she rocked backwards.

The only scent he'd remember was their sweat, her hot skin gliding along his chest. The only thing he'd remember feeling was her softness under his touch, the way her fingers curled into his palm in the middle of their lovemaking, her hand linking and gripping his tightly, her eyelashes fluttering against his cheek.

He'd only remember seeing that he was not seeing, his vision a blinding white that came with furious encounters like these, blind, except for the acute awareness of her body arching under him as she cried out.

And he'd remember the way a clear drop of water rolled from her eye down the side of her face as she stared at the ceiling when she thought he was asleep.

-

It was past 10 am when he awoke, eyes bleary and her scent still in his nostrils.

He refused to look over at the left side of the bed, where he was sure golden sunlight spilled onto the rumpled ivory sheets, a cold indent in the mattress where he expected her body to be missing.

The house was very quiet, the shower wasn't on, and he had not been rudely awoken by the 7.30am clockwork slamming of the door as she left for work.

_Happy New Year_, he wished himself, as he rolled out of bed to find his shirt missing.

Other than that, the room was untouched; there was no goodbye note, no "_P.S. I love you_", or anything that would prove there had been another living, breathing human in the house just the day before.

Not a word.

He wanted answers. Why had she taken him to bed when she had dutifully ignored him for the better part of two weeks before today? He wanted to know, wished she'd told him when she'd be back from Berlin, and how to contact her whilst she was away.

Chuck knew he'd try her office anyway. He just couldn't help himself sometimes. He knew their relationship was broken, knew it was so far gone it was beyond words. But he couldn't help himself; maybe it was wishful thinking that her attitude would change if he tried hard enough, or if he laboriously mended one broken bridge even while a couple more crumbled away as he did so.

He just couldn't give up on her.

Any other counselor would gently advise him to find a divorce lawyer, but maybe it was vain hope, selfishness, or memories of the past that refused to leave him alone, that prevented him from doing so.

Maybe he was delusional, the past was the past, and it was unlikely their future would look anything like it. But it was so fresh, and thinking about it still caused emotion to choke up, so much so that he was unwilling to let it slip away.

­­

He justified it with the rare times she would ask about his company, when she'd take his hand just before knocking on the door to Ellie's house, and when she was in an especially good mood—the chaste kiss she would lay on his lips, just enough for him to want more.

And now, every time he tried to think about the wealth of memories of their past, preciously locked away in the chest that was his heart, they were always weighed down and tainted with tears.

His phone rang beside him, clattering over the table as it vibrated, and it made him jump in surprise.

"Ellie?" he asked, wincing at the hoarseness in his voice.

Ellie's cheerfully proclaimed him a Happy New Year, and Chuck, trying to inject some spirit into his tone, responded likewise. "Happy New Year, sis," he said, almost feeling Ellie's smile over the line. "Tell Devon the same when he gets out of the shower for me."

Ellie babbled on for a moment before she paused, and Chuck knew she instinctively found something off with him.

"Is Sarah there?" she asked. "I want to wish her a Happy New Year too!"

"No," he said slowly. "She went on business."

His sister was silent for a moment, and he felt a sliver of foreboding. "On New Year's Day?" She asked cautiously.

"Yeah," he said, trying to slip into some boxers as he answered. "She got the memo last night at the party."

There was a hint of concern in her voice as she replied, "And she didn't tell us?"

Chuck could sense she was a little hurt, but more confused than the former.

"Well, I don't think she wanted to spoil the festivities," he said, trying to cover for Sarah. "She'll be back soon."

_I think_.

He sat down again, voice muffled as he fell back onto the bed, face first, "Ellie –" he started, knowing she was about to give him a lecture.

She didn't let him complete the sentence, but to his surprise, she didn't accuse him.

"Chuck," she said, that motherly, patronizing tone in her voice, and she sighed. "This isn't good for you, your marriage, or for both of you for that matter…her business trips take longer altogether than she manages to spend with you here in California!"

"I know," he said, trying to placate her. "Look, it means a lot to her, okay? I don't want to hold her back, Ellie."

"Charles Bartowski," Ellie intoned, "I'm your sister, I watch out for you…" he could almost picture her holding up her hand to fend off his imaginary protests, "…even though you're twenty-nine and married."

She paused again, as if she were thinking, gearing herself up for something she didn't want to admit.

"I see the way you two act around each other, and I know you're having problems," she said in a long breath, "Do you even know exactly what she does over there, Chuck?"

"Her job," he replied, tired, trying to suppress the flow of emotions he wanted to vent to her willing ears.

But no, he couldn't make her worry. She had to be healthy and happy during her pregnancy, for him at least. She needed to live her life, partly for his own happiness, because he couldn't see any way to get to the point Ellie and Devon were at, standing off the track as he currently was, with Sarah wandering off-road in the bush.

Ellie let out a disappointed sigh. "Just try and work it out, please. If you're not going forward, you're not going anywhere, as my sage husband always says."

"Alright, El," he said, saying it to please her, "I'll try."

"That's all I ask." She clearly didn't believe him, and he'd be hearing more of that later. "I just want you, and Sarah, to be happy."

Chuck allowed a smile to cross his face fondly. "Thanks Ellie. You always say the right thing."

She laughed. "Love you, Chuck. I'm always here for you." She sighed again, but then changed the subject brightly.

"Are you coming to dinner tonight?"

-

Shakily blowing out a breath between her lips, Sarah Walker strode out into the cloudy sky, hefting a carry-on bag onto her shoulder, her suitcases forwarded to her hotel.

Standing just beside the curb, she looked out at the grey buildings, at the grey footpath and the grey asphalt of the road. Sparing a quick glance upward as if shaking off troubling thoughts, she slipped on a pair of dark sunglasses to cover her eyes, ignoring the looks people gave her as they walked past.

_Hello, Washington_, she thought dryly as she hailed a cab.

* * *

Confused? …good.

Please be patient, everything will be cleared up along the way. The back-story starts next chapter. And for those Sarah-bashers: we all know that sometimes Chuck has the ability to blow everything out of proportion.

Prompt for Chapter Two's review: I think it's AWESOME, and that Sarah...


	3. Toru: The Forces at Work

A breakthrough! I've broken past the giant monumental landmark of TWO whole chapters! :)

This chapter should reveal some key things about Chuck and Sarah's relationship. Take care to notice actions and details.

Disclaimer: I got a season pass, so this disclaimer is valid for the remainder of this story.

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CHAPTER THREE

The Forces at Work (Literally and Figuratively)

-

**Summer Vacation of 2003**_, Central Intelligence Agency, Training Facility_

-

"Never fall in love," Agent Montgomery declared gravely, his tone providing the seriousness needed while he twirled the glass in his hand, the brandy sloshing in distracting circles up to the lip of the rim. "The first lesson of a spy."

_No problem_, Sarah thought casually, _easy enough_.

"Agent Walker."

Her eyes flickered up to her instructor's face.

"With your CIA-engineered looks," he said purposefully, uncovering her main insecurity easily. He watched her bristle, an amused smile playing at his lips, "It should be easy for you to handle the opposite sex if needed."

She smirked, feeling the animosity of the class increase. She flipped her pencil easily around her fingers, watching him levelly, waiting for the question he was inevitably leading into.

"So what do you do if they're more interested in what's underneath?"

Sarah sat up straighter in the hard wooden chair, leaning her elbows onto the small desk and looked through hooded eyelashes at him. "Pull my top down even more," she responded innocently.

The class broke into laughter, some of the uneasiness gone. They didn't like the fact Graham was her personal patron, and everyone knew it. Everything was impossible to keep secret between eighty inquisitive spies living in close proximity for four weeks.

"Amusing, Agent Walker," Montgomery said dryly, sipping nonchalantly at the drink as he peered at her. "Let me know how that works out for you if that situation ever arises."

-

**Morning of 2009**, _Bartowski Apartment, California_

-

"Blue, grey…black," Chuck counted in his mind, "charcoal, and black again…_lilac?_"

Closing the closet door, he bumped his head against it a few times in frustration, and once more for good measure.

"Why are all the colours so depressing?" he asked himself, glancing at his watch.

Twenty to seven.

Futilely trying to squeeze water out of his sopping hair, he decided maybe breakfast would bode better for him. His only choices were cereal, or toast. Easy. Even he could handle that.

Grabbing a towel on the way out, he rubbed his head vigorously, heading for the stairs.

_Wait,_ he thought as he backtracked into the room.

He simply stood there, letting the minutes trickle by like the water dripping onto his shirt, staring at the ensemble of clothing hung behind the door, already neatly pressed and colour coordinated.

_Ah, white striped shirt,_ he mused, _why didn't I think of that?_

Almost reverently, he carefully pulled the cloudy grey suit from the hanger, laying it on the bed as he stared thoughtfully at it, knowing full well who had chosen it for him.

_No tie, huh? _

"Well," he commented, as he stripped off his shirt, "she always knows best."

For a moment, he couldn't speak, emotion filling his chest as he quietly dressed. Slipping his loafers on, he turned around to face the mirror, smoothing his collar down, trying to style his hair the way she insisted on doing it.

He stared at himself for a moment, surprised at the way everything matched, making him look taller and leaner. _I would never have used this combination_.

Brushing it off, he clomped down the stairs, footsteps echoing his loneliness.

_Shopping list, dry-cleaners, pay the electricity, ring Ellie_…

Oh. The coffee wasn't made yet.

Sighing, he fumbled around, pouring the appropriate parts into the espresso machine, trying to remember how exactly he liked it made.

_Briefcase_, he reminded himself as he popped two pieces of toast into the toaster. _Jacket_, he laid the two over the chair so he wouldn't forget them.

The doorbell rang, and already frazzled, Chuck didn't even want to imagine his state at the end of the day.

"It's open," he called, "and you know it."

"Hi, Chuck," Bryce greeted as he closed the door behind him. He grabbed a piece of toast and stuck it in his mouth. "Yoush weady?"

Grabbing a metal thermos, Chuck washed it out with hot water, leaving the sides heated up to keep the coffee temperature high for longer.

"Just a second," Chuck said, and bit his lip in concentration as he filled it up, picking up the remaining slice of toast before juggling all his belongings into his arms. "Let's go."

Bryce started the car, before mentioning, "Morgan's called at least three times this morning asking about the deal with the Japanese. It's been put off long enough, especially with the New Year's celebrations these last few days."

Chuck rested his head against the window.

"Chuck."

"Yeah," he said, "I heard you."

Bryce seemed to sense his mood, and just engaged his headset, asking the receptionist for Morgan.

-

'**Business Trip' 2009**_, Unregistered Apartment, Washington_

-

"Home Sweet Home," Sarah said aloud to herself, trying to fill the room up with her voice so it wouldn't feel so empty.

_I wonder if he found the suit. _

"He may have just walked straight past it as usual," She remarked, frowning unhappily.

_There's really no point unpacking. I'll only be here tonight; most of these clothes aren't going with me._

She looked over at the door, where a battered suitcase lay, appearances deceiving as her keen eyes knew what to look for: reinforced zips, metal lining, plenty of pockets to keep things hidden in.

But even those didn't excite her anymore, nor did the new technology she was privileged to use.

_Head in the game_, _Walker_, she chastised herself, _be professional_. Y_ou cannot afford to slip up._

It was hard to concentrate here; there was no frustration or resentment. It felt oddly vacant.

Walking over to the deposit box, she input the six digit sequence and watched it slide open with a slight hiss. _Just one more time_, she convinced herself, _just so you don't forget._

Fingering the dog eared pages, she spread herself along the couch, fingers automatically moving over the thick document where she had marked sentences and stuck several yellow post-it markers already.

Involuntarily, her eyes shifted down to the second to last paragraph, written in a bland, unemotional font. _In italics_, she noted neutrally, _this isn't_ _even a negotiation. _

…_only procedure_, she read, skipping over words as she scanned the document, _Issue Clause 72c, Mr. and Mrs. Bartowski_…

Aggravated and unable to ignore the 'suggestion' given to her, she tossed the sheaf of paper onto the coffee table, the photo that rested on it fluttering to the ground at the disturbance the stack made, sliding across the glass onto the carpet.

_It is necessary to…for your protection…_

Letting her head hang off the armrest of the couch, she wished the blood rushing to her head would purge this whole predicament.

…_annulment or otherwise. Please be aware… _

The words just wouldn't leave her thoughts.

_We express our regret._

-

'**Chief's' office 2009**_, Pineapple Games Office Building, California_

-

"Pineapple Games—_Jump_ into action," Chuck read, trying to emphasize the 'jump' as enthusiastically as he could, unsuccessfully imitating the way the pretty brunette in the 9.00pm slot TV ad did it.

Pushing aside his embossed notepad, he dropped his pen and spun around in his comfy leather chair.

"Who was the genius who thought up that line?" Chuck muttered to himself.

_Morgan_.

Shaking his head, he leaned back into the headrest, crossing his fingers over his stomach. This morning's emails were tended to, the Japanese kept happy, doodles of new ideas scratched all over a piece of A4; sagging into the chair properly, Chuck settled in for a short nap.

_… Bryce is out having lunch with some new investors. Jeff and Lester are in the back room…_

_Jeff and Lester!!_

In a fit of horror, Chuck nearly fell off his chair in his haste. _If improperly supervised…_

"No," Chuck said aloud, "they're hidden in the deepest recesses of this building surrounded by nothing breakable, no new prototypes, or important files of any sort. Lester's been given the trial program of IRAQ, Jeff's probably trying to figure out the employee key code for free drinks at the machine."

Everything's fine.

He slowly closed his eyes again, but halfway his pupils rested on his half-finished anniversary gift for Sarah.

Suddenly he didn't feel like sleeping anymore.

This year's had to be better than last years. Just thinking about her caused a mixture of emotions in his heart, as his stomach seemed to drop through the seat with its weight. Dread tingled in his veins.

_I can't lose her_.

With deliberate slowness, he pulled his iPhone out from its unceremonious home in his pants pocket. Turning it around, he pressed a random button, watching the light brighten up the sleep mode as the 'locked' screen turned up.

There weren't any messages from her.

"I AM YOUR FATHER," rasped out of the speakers just as he put it gently down on the desk, intending to simply stare at it.

Juggling it for a moment in his panic to read the email, he finally caught it with shaking hands, his palms already moist from anticipation.

"Subject," Chuck read, squinting at the screen as the window behind him reflected light onto the screen, "Project Death Star."

_It couldn't have been her anyway_, he consoled himself, _she never contacts me when she's away._

Although his spirits dampened again, he couldn't help feel a streak of pride as he commented to himself, "I made that name up." And what an epic struggle that was to get his clients to adopt the ridiculous Star Wars reference.

But even as his humour died, as it often did now, adrenaline started making his heart beat faster, as his finger made a sweat mark on the 'open' button.

A small flash of writing flew past, "Encrypted message. Secure connection," before the prompt surfaced for his password.

With a small whooshing sound, the official looking document, completely unadorned and lacking any sort of logo or indicator of sender, appeared on the screen as he looked up surreptitiously to make sure his door was closed.

"Mr. Bartowski," he murmured, then closed his mouth quickly. He could get in a whole lot of hot water if he didn't keep this client's business completely confidential.

"_Mr. Bartowski, we are in need of your services again for the good of __the __country. You are hereby called to serve __at__ your previous rank of lieutenant. You will be contacted by our worker shortly, who will redirect you to some 'investors' over a secure connection. You will then present your research and recent progress_ _according to our agreed upon contractual timetable as of this point, eighth of January, 2009. _

His hand started shaking again. He nervously deleted the message as previously instructed in prior situations such as this.

_Not one track may lead us to you_, they'd said, _any breach of protocol, and your company will be shut down, and this contract terminated._

Chuck doubted that's the only thing that would be terminated if that situation should ever occur.

* * *

What have we learnt this week, kiddies? Analyse away!

Prompt: I think it's AWESOME, and the Chuck/Sarah relationship...?


	4. Wha: Enter, the Girl of my Dreams

OMGOMGOMG!! (Yes I had to export this chapter b/c I forgot) **HAPPY BIRTHDAY ZACH LEVI**!!!! WILL YOU MARRY ME?

...by the way, this chapter is dedicated to him. The first happy chapter in this whole story :)

I would like to say a big thank you to my betas, Myst and mxpw for the amazing job both of them have done. It works really well because each one picks up different things that are wrong (which is a lot) in my chapters as they have different strengths.

This is the official start of the backstory. What you need to know: there are going to be alternate chapters on past and present. In the 'past' chapters, it will be split into two, the first part will start from Chuck and Sarah's first meeting to their marriage, and the second, from their marriage to the present. So it might be smart to watch the dates.

* * *

-

CHAPTER FOUR

Enter, the Girl of my Dreams.

-

**In a land far, far away, 2005**, _Buy More, Burbank, California_

-

"Chuck!"

Chuck leaned his head heavily against his palm, knowing full well he'd have a red palm print on his face later as he scribbled customer information onto forms for later entry into the Buy More database.

_Dean, Dorothy_. He read in his mind as he wrote, his eyelids drooping as he covered a yawn. _What kind of name's that? _

"Chuuuuck…" Morgan hissed again, banging his fist against the table in front of Chuck without looking, nearly hammering into his friend's face, missing by a scant inch.

…_Phone not broken like suggested, but merely had a jammed battery cover, which was in turn affected by the poorly installed battery in the rear of phone… total cost of repair…_

"Total cost," Chuck repeated dully, as he reached for the nauseating neon-green calculator.

"Chuck! Vicki Vale!"

Mind still in delirium, Chuck just rolled his eyes, slumping further forward so his nose touched the paper, before snatching up the ringing phone, "Vicki Vale, Vickkity-vic-Vale, Vick-Vickity-Vicky Vale,"

"Excuse me."

Chuck stood up, eyes glued onto the sheet, pen in mouth and phone pressed against his ear and shoulder, fully intending on moving away to let Morgan deal with the customer.

"Viiiiick-cki-Vickkkity Vaaale," Chuck rapped, distracted with the angry voice on the line. Glancing up to politely excuse himself; he took a step backward before his head snapped up again, eyes fully open and his jaw dropping.

"I'm sorry," said the woman as if she were used to being stared at, "I'm here about this." She dropped the phone onto the workbench without another word. "I'm new in this city; my phone really needs to be working right about now."

Eyes still on her face, Chuck reached out in zombie-mode, picking it up and a screwdriver lying nearby.

"This is Chuck," Morgan introduced unnecessarily, waving at their name-tags for extra effect. "I'm Morgan."

Sliding the cover off, Chuck looked down to determine the problem, eyes ghosting up frequently to watch her.

She smiled straight back at him, and the screwdriver slipped, stabbing his thumb, making him jump. He desperately tried to regain hold of the phone as it teetered precariously in his grip.

No.

Almost in slow motion, it fell in an arc, and his movements were much too slow to save it from a nasty fate.

And just as he desperately reached for it, a slender hand shot out, securing the phone safely as she offered it back to him. "I didn't think anybody still named their kids Chuck and Morgan," she commented lightly.

Chuck just opened his mouth, hoping that nothing inappropriate would tumble out.

"His parents were sadists," Morgan returned with a charming grin while Chuck just gaped like a fish out of water, or a man out of his depths, "I was raised as a carnival freak."

A tinkling laugh that caused Chuck to cringe a little came out of her mouth as she nodded almost knowingly, as if that kind of thing happened everyday in America.

Twisting the screw back into its normal position, Chuck spoke, but no words came out of his mouth except an exhale of dry air.

Swallowing, Chuck spoke up again, "I'm done."

She looked genuinely surprised as she accepted the phone back from him, "Wow, you geeks are good."

Morgan shifted uncomfortably, and she noticed.

"Nerds," he said awkwardly, pointing above his head to the sign: _Nerd Herders_. "Not geeks. Just - uh, nerds, you know how it is…"

"Nerds," Chuck helpfully supplied.

Looking confused, she just nodded, clearly unconvinced. "Well, here's my number. I'm Sarah, by the way." With one last attractive smile, she turned and sauntered down the main isle, as Chuck and Morgan stared. There was a glint in Lester's hand aimed inconspicuously at 'Sarah' as he stood with Jeff behind a box of discount items.

Chuck picked up her card, his eyes automatically focusing on "Sarah Walker" written in bold, black letters in the middle, a mobile number printed beneath it.

"Why do I need her number?"

-

**Sarah's workplace party, 2007**, _Advertising Firm,_ _Creative Imaging, America _

-

"This is Sarah Walker," the tall, well-dressed man said, "This is my top employee— she's also my newest."

The speaker looked at Sarah, alternating his gaze to Chuck for the briefest moment, expression inscrutable. His hair was balding, slowly but surely, and although his face lacked any kind of handsome shape- carved hollow by sunken cheeks; his chiseled jaw and strong cheekbones were indicators that he would have been the epitome of masculinity back in his day.

"Nice to meet you," Sarah said demurely, as she shook the hands of three older executives of the company. "Mr. Clark, my boss, simply gives me the best opportunities to excel."

She pulled Chuck forward gently, smiling happily at him. "I'd like to introduce you to my husband," she said, looking at each person.

"This is Chuck. _Charles_ Bartowski," she amended quickly, watching him exchange polite greetings with the two men, and the woman.

Chuck just smiled, standing quietly, a little behind Sarah as he let her take charge of their end of the conversation.

After a few more pleasantries, the man dove quickly into a businesslike demeanor.

"The main reason why I threw the party today," Clark said, "and why these corporate people have stopped by unobtrusively this evening is because I have a preposition for you."

Sarah withdrew calmly as her eyes leveled out, and she looked sharply at her boss, clutching Chuck's hand tightly.

Mr. Clark continued, "Mr. Graham," his oily smile widened a little when she fixed her stare at him, "has given me the opportunity to present you with a promotion."

Chuck beamed in wonder at her, but Sarah only had a small curve to her lips.

"That's very generous," she said carefully. "What does this job entail?"

Her higher-up motioned to the door without answering. "Let's go somewhere more private."

Chuck let go of her hand, but she hooked her arm around his. "Come on," she urged him. "You're a part of this, too."

They follow at the back of the group, and already, an uneasy silence has fallen over the two of them.

One of the men—Mr. Takana, closed the door, standing in front of it.

Chuck shifted nervously, having no idea what was going on, and Sarah slipped in front of him subtly without his detection.

"Sarah Walker –" Mr. Clark started, but she interrupted him boldly.

"Sarah Bartowski," she stated firmly, and the woman gave her a disapproving look.

Mr. Clark paused, but humoured her. "Mrs. Bartowski, we'd like you to be part of our international team of CI employees," he said, getting to the point. "You'd get an incredible raise, and a whole lot of additional benefits and privileges thereof that comes with the position."

Sarah was shocked into silence for a moment, but looking up at Chuck, who had a neutral expression on his face, she replied slowly, "I don't want to leave my husband for extended periods of time," She said, "We're just married, you understand –"

The man, who had stayed quiet, finally spoke, his tone soft, but each person fell silent immediately. "This is not an offer to be taken lightly," he enunciates in a slow voice, "And I see you have a lot of potential…as a marketing individual who can expand our growth to other countries."

For a very short moment, Sarah looked excited, but wavered in hesitation straight after.

Without looking at Chuck, she lifted her conflicted gaze from the ground, and gritted her teeth as she delivers her final answer, "I'd like to stay within California in my position as a designer, but I appreciate your offer."

-

Two days later, a pristine white envelope arrived at their door, official CI logo in the corner and under the "Creative Imaging" heading; it was addressed to one Ms. Sarah Walker.

"What do they want now?" Chuck asked tentatively. Sarah had been walking a thin line ever since the party, her emotions flipping so quickly Chuck was afraid to speak out of turn. She wouldn't talk to him about it, and he was torn between indecision on whether to press her or not. For one thing, he knew it was either her annoyance at the offer, or longing for the job.

He hoped he wasn't the one holding her back from her bright-looking future.

Sarah opened the envelope, dropping it to the circular dinner table carelessly as she wandered over to him, letting him curl an arm around her shoulder as she drew the sheet out with a clean _shick _of crisp paper.

_Creative Imaging, America_

_March twenty-first, 2007_

_Dear Ms. Sarah Walker,_

_Your application for a permanent domestic position has been successful. We are pleased to-_

"I don't believe this!" Sarah said. Her mouth was agape as she stared at the letter, releasing it a moment later as if burnt, "I _said_ I wanted to stay in _California_!"

Chuck stroked her hair, closing his eyes as he buried his nose into the golden waterfall as he brought her closer. "I guess you're just too talented to waste here."

Sarah just turned to look at him, clearly reading something in his sentence that he hadn't really implied, "Chuck –"

"Tell me truthfully, Sarah," he said, drawing away reluctantly to look her in the eyes. "Tell me that you don't want this, to succeed."

"I –"

Chuck knew it with that single hesitation, as she struggled to continue, that he was right.

"Sarah Bartowski," he said, "I know you, and I know you want this. You're a competitive woman who does what it takes. You love what you do."

She just looked at him with pained eyes as she also tried to conceal the hope in her expression.

"Go get 'em," he said confidently. "We'll be okay."

-

**Vicki Vale returns, 2005**, _Buy More, Burbank, California_

-

"Didn't I do the job right the first time?" Chuck asked as the woman from yesterday appeared at the desk again, a grin on her lips and phone in hand.

She leaned against the counter, dipping a little as she lowers her face to his level. She watched him, a little put out, and a little perplexed, as he looked away instead of being fixed on the view she'd oh-so-gracefully executed.

_Well_, she grimaced as she straightened, _the little Indian man hiding against the second shelf behind Chuck seems to have taken full advantage of it_, she thought ruefully.

"Maybe," she said sweetly, "I assumed it was broken because I didn't get a call from you,"

This was a case of horrible déjà vu. _Damn that Montgomery for sending me in here, he must have known about this 'Chuck', but I won't let him fail me_, she thought obstinately as she detachedly watched Chuck's reaction.

She tried to contain the inner glow when she noticed his blush, the redness creeping below his neck, and stretching out to his ears.

_Another one in the bag_, she congratulated herself, _E-asy_.

"Uh," Chuck stuttered. "Uh, do you want me to check it again?"

_Oh you can't be serious_, Sarah complained to herself as she fought the impulse to roll her eyes.

"What?" She said saucily, leaning over again, "This?"

Chuck brought his hands up, waving them wildly to shield his view before squeezing his eyes tightly shut.

_I'm going to fail_, she thought despairingly as a big, overweight man carrying a box of donuts strolled up the aisle surprisingly easily for someone his weight.

"Bartowski!"

"Big Mike!" Chuck replied, still looking away stubbornly.

"Bartowski, is this woman harassing you?" The dark-skinned man asked, peering at Sarah. Then a greedy smile eclipsed his features as he wiped icing sugar off his lips with the back of his hand. "Because if that's the case, I need to see you in my office at once, ma'am."

Sarah just squinted incredulously at him.

* * *

Ta da! :) Yes, it's short. I can never write long chapters for some reason! And no, it's not because I want reviews.

AH HA! Sarah's seduction tactics aren't working. She should've listened to Montgomery :P

Oh and by the way, check out the WHO ARE YOU challenge (.net/~whoareyouchallenge) on this site. There are going to be some short stories by some very good authors, and you'll have to guess which one wrote which just by their distinctive style of writing.


	5. Rima: The Last Goodnight

Kiaora!

Shout out to all the inebriated people, or zero attention span people, can't read, inebriated, insane people reading this fic who don't review. I know you're out there somewhere reading this! (Oh and to DLK)

Myst and mpxw are awesome! They put up with my horrible tenses and weird kiwi sentence structure.

_Leaving On a Jet Plane_- Chantal Kreviazuk

* * *

_-_

CHAPTER FIVE

The Last Goodnight.

_-_

_All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go  
I'm standin' here outside your door  
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye_

_But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn  
The taxi's waitin', he's blowin' his horn  
Already I'm so lonesome I could die_

_-_

"Chuck buddy!" Morgan exclaimed indignantly, punctuating his next words with sporadic bursts of gunfire, "You. Can't. Let. Them. DO. This. To. You!"

Chuck grabbed the beer bottle beside him, heaving a huge gulp as he concentrated on the action, other hand working his controller furiously, "I can't do anything about it Morgan, and I'm committed for life."

Angrily, Morgan slammed his thumbs against the joysticks.

"Well you can't," he said again, hopelessness seeping into his voice. "Not when you can kill people and serve your country in IRAQ."

Chuck laughed morosely, "Morg, IRAQ is a video game."

"Exactly, you can't actually die here," Morgan said. "You use up your life, and then you have a new game." He paused and then added, "Out there, you only got one shot."

"I won't be in the midst of crossfire in the Red Zones often, Morgan," Chuck said, trying to alleviate Morgan's worry. "More often than not, I'll be needed back at base to deal with the electronics," he added vaguely.

Slurping his grape soda, Morgan put the game on pause while he fiddled around with the ice in his glass, chewing on them thoughtfully. "What about Sarah?"

"What about her?"

"Well," Morgan said, shaking the last drops of fizzy drink into his cup, "seeing that she's always away for weeks at a time, how are you going to tell her you're going away since you'll leave before she gets back?"

Chuck frowned, thrown. "Morgan, you have flashes of brilliance sometimes. You surprise me."

"I know."

"I guess I'll keep ringing her cell to try get through. Or I could just run up to her office and ask her boss to pass on my message…" Chuck trailed off.

Morgan tapped his finger on the armrest of the couch, and stroked the messy stubble on his chin. "Chuck, how many times do you have to do that to realize it'll never get through, bro?"

Chuck slumped. "I don't know, maybe I'll be back before she realizes that I'm missing."

"Chuck –" Morgan paused and looked like he wanted to say something important, before he changed his mind, smiling. "It's alright," he said reassuringly, "she'll be back to see you off."

_-_

_So kiss me and smile for me  
Tell me that you'll wait for me  
Hold me like you'll never let me go_

_'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane  
I don't know when I'll be back again  
Oh, babe, I hate to go_

_-_

The doorbell rang and Sarah sprang up as if startled. Stuffing the sheets of paper back into the manila envelope, she slammed the safe closed, waiting until she heard the click of the lock before opening her front door.

"You have mail," the post-boy announced dully, handing her a form to sign. After scanning both sides of the hallway, he muttered under his breath, "Everything is accounted for. Your flight leaves the day after next at 0800. Tonight, you need to visit to be outfitted with your gear. CI has been very generous with your equipment."

Nodding, Sarah took the heavy bag, sitting it beside the door before picking up the pen to input her name digitally onto the pad.

"Thank you," she said before closing the door and dragging the case to her bed.

Curious, she unhooked the clasps after the finger recognition software blinked a green light at her.

Lifting an eyebrow, she nodded to herself. With a grim smile, she picked up one of the props (probably installed with extra features), sliding her hands meticulously over it, reveling in the slick, grooved metal and its sturdy weight.

"Hmmm," she murmured and picked up the ultra-light laptop, glancing at the pale grey apple logo sunken into the top as she opened the cover, pleased with its thinness. As it powered up, she looked at the disks that lay in a small plastic bag. "Photoshop CS5," she read, running her eyes over the rest of the titles.

"All I need to be a graphic designer," she said to herself, flipping the ink pen between her fingers. "They're gonna love my proposal," she remarked. "Not like they're going to be able to disagree with me."

These will get the job done quickly; her customers will love what she's doing this time.

"Impressed?" a voice behind her asked.

Sarah spun around, eyes narrowed and alert as she reaches for any items nearby to defend herself.

"Cole." she stated flatly, face inscrutable as she looked behind him to see how he managed to enter without arousing any attention.

"Pleased to leave that husband of yours?" he mocked teasingly, a long running joke between them.

Sarah relaxed a tiny amount, locking the case again after giving it a quick once over.

"What do you want, Cole?" she demanded icily. "I'm not supposed to need to see you until tomorrow."

Cole shrugged. "As cold as ever, Sarah Walker," he commented before lowering his voice, "I heard about what they want you to do."

She stiffened, and shoved the case harder than necessary as she propped it upright, letting it rebound off the wall and fall onto the ground again.

"It's none of your business."

Casually, Cole collapsed into the armchair, scrutinizing her closely as she moved around her little apartment.

Sarah continued, refusing to look at him, "Who else knows?"

"Just your boss and me."

Facing the view of the busy street stories under her window, she didn't budge an inch as she squared her shoulders.

"Back. _Off_," she warned, clenching her fist.

She heard him stand up and move closer to her position. "You don't love him," he said bluntly, "You haven't for a long time."

Sarah didn't reply, refusing to give him the satisfaction of being right. "You may be my partner," she said coldly after a while, completely ignoring his probing, "but you know how many I've gone through since I started going on international trips."

Cole scoffed, "And the boss only agrees because of your shining track record at closing deals and completing your assignments."

Without any reply, he continued, unaffected by her silence, "And we both know this time won't come easy."

_-_

_There's so many times I've let you down  
So many times I've played around  
I'll tell you now, they don't mean a thing_

_Every place I go, I think of you  
Every song I sing, I sing for you  
When I come back I'll wear your wedding ring_

_-_

Chuck opened the chest at the end of his…their bed, coughing at the dust wafting up as he lifted various articles of clothing from their long period of storage.

He hadn't counted on needing them ever again.

With cold hands, he lifted a perfectly folded stack of clothes out, grimacing at the slightly faded and musty green of the pants and jacket.

Laying them on the floor beside the combat boots and random pieces of his uniform scattered over the ground and in his half-packed bag, he sighed, smoothing the lapel with his fingertips.

Even his uniform wouldn't be enough to bring her back now.

Leaning back against the side of the bed, he looked around the dark bedroom, at the neutral furnishings they had agreed to decorate their room with years ago.

"Charles Bartowski, reporting," he recited mutinously, as he stared wistfully at the rumpled suit that was slung over a chair. _I just want to be normal, and run my company_.

Closing his eyes, he tried to ignore the weight of the official looking army issued letter sitting on his knees that he had received a day after contact with his client.

"I could always run away," he suggested to himself, but laughed, slightly self-deprecatingly straight after.

But ever the optimist, he decided it was a good chance to try out the engineering he had been playing around with, stored in high level security under the building, the safety precautions installed by his client.

Plus, his teammates needed him. Who else would bother separating the two hotheads before they killed each other? That is, if they hadn't changed their names to avoid being called back into service again.

It was a good chance to demonstrate his skills and give his company as much exposure as his client allowed. As long as they were happy, his company would keep on getting high-paying contracts. After this contract, maybe his main client would let him promote his company more, instead of subduing his mark in the market in an attempt to keep what they commissioned him to do under wraps. He had put a lot of money into this company, and he wanted a larger return so he could afford to take Sarah out to a nice restaurant some day.

He nodded confidently to himself, ignoring the fact that they hadn't gone out together in months.

Yeah, he'd serve, and then come back alive to save the remnants of his marriage. He'd left a call in her voicemail box upon Ellie's insistence, and he hoped she'd miss him enough to check her phone. Maybe she'd be worried for him and fly home a week early to see him off.

Chuck shook his head, packing the clothing tightly into the small duffle beside him; they were nothing but foolish thoughts.

_-_

_Now the time has come to leave you  
One more time, oh, let me kiss you  
And close your eyes and I'll be on my way_

_Dream about the days to come  
When I won't have to leave alone  
About the times that I won't have to say ..._

_-_

Letting the golden doors swing shut behind her, Sarah shoved the hair dangling in front of her face back savagely, cursing under her breath as she nearly walked into a man crossing her path.

The paper slipped neatly into a plastic folder weighed heavily in her left hand as she strode to her black Porsche, tight grip threatening to crush the small stack.

Wrenching open the door, she slid into the driver's seat, not even blinking when the harsh wind blew the door closed harder than she would've liked.

Her hand was still trembling slightly from the half hour before as she had signed shakily on the dotted line, her name printed clearly in bold black letters below the signature.

Taking the official looking document out, she rested it on the steering wheel as she stared unseeingly through the unemotional font, realizing she had been holding her breath ever since she'd stepped into the building.

Pressing her lips into a thin line, she decisively crammed it back into its protective covering before starting the car, stubbornly looking out of the window as she let the engine hum without letting the car out of park.

_It was a long time coming._

-

_Oh, kiss me and smile for me  
Tell me that you'll wait for me  
Hold me like you'll never let me go_

_'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane  
I don't know when I'll be back again  
Oh, babe, I hate to go_

-

"Is the mark going to be a problem to convince to go to the field?"

General Beckman smiled. "No, his work is crucial to our counter-attack. We've made sure he will have no qualms leaving all this behind. He will put his life and soul into this work."

"Very good," the man said and then paused before continuing. "Are you sure the Operative knows about the circumstances?"

The military woman looked almost offended. "Yes. She is under the illusion he will still be in California."

Without another reply, the screen went blank.

Beckman looked much older than her fifty years as she let her shoulders slump a little from the rigid posture she'd maintained during the brief conversation.

"This is a big gamble," she mumbled to herself, pulling the next document over to sign.

-

_And I'm leaving on a jet plane  
I don't know when I'll be back again  
Oh, babe, I hate to go_

_But I'm leaving on a jet plane  
(Ah ah ah ah)  
Leaving on a jet plane  
(Ah ah ah ah)  
Leaving on a jet plane  
(Ah ah ah ah)  
Leaving on a jet plane  
(Ah ah ah ah)_

-

* * *

Ah ha! Found that song right before I posted :D

I love the dedication you've shown the story, really sorry it's moving this slow and angsty, but it's moving!


	6. Ono: Continuum

Just thought I'd take advantage of the last bit of weekend before my last term starts to school for this year :) I'll be busy from this week.

WOW this chapter is long (for me). This story relies a lot on uncovering details along the way, so if you have time as we get further into the plot, go back and refresh your memory :)

And **thanks to everyone who's reviewed these last few chapters, because NEVER in FL-dom has there EVER been a Chapter Six posted. This fic never would've been readable without Myst and mxpw's efforts in wrangling the awful mistakes into actual English**.

_Breathe In Breathe Out_- Mat Kearney

Disclaimer: Here it is.

* * *

-

CHAPTER SIX

Continuum.

-

_Breathe in _

_Breathe out_

_Tell me all of your doubts_

_Everybody bleeds this way_

_Just the same_

**-**

**Bryce Larkin's party, 2005,** _Bachelor Pad, California_

-

The party was at full capacity when Chuck finally got back from the Buy More, hurrying back home to change before heading to the chaos.

Avoiding empty beer cans strewn across the yard, and couples scattered everywhere, he snagged a freshly poured shot from the open bar before looking for Bryce.

"Hey Chuck!"

He turned, squinting to see his best friend next to a small bonfire lit inside a large metal can filled with dry fuel.

Bryce waved him over, a great big grin stretched over his face, "Haven't seen you in a while, Chuck. Glad you made it!"

Chuck clasped his hand in greeting, bumping fists.

"Work's been busy," he said lamely, glancing down at the fire as he warmed his hands.

"Yeah, sure," Bryce waved dismissively. "Listen, Chuck, when are you going to ditch the Buy More? It's time you got over Jill, bro. It's a good thing she came onto me; I know you were planning to propose after graduation. It spared you the cost of a divorce later."

Chuck stayed silent, annoyance bubbling inside his chest as he tried to keep it down. Bryce was half drunk; he'd forgive him this time.

"After we get back, Chuck," Bryce continued, "I want to start up a company with you."

This got his attention. Bryce snagged a woman passing him, pulling her to his side as Chuck looked up curiously.

"Are you serious?"

Bryce laughed, "Yeah, of course."

The woman tried to playfully wrestle out of his grip as he continued, "Oh by the way, Chuck…"

Chuck nearly stepped back as his mind registered the female before Bryce introduced her.

"Meet my girlfriend, Sarah Walker."

-

_Breathe in _

_Breathe out_

_Move on and break down_

_If everyone goes away_

_I will stay_

**-**

**Domestic Assignment, late 2007, **_LAX, Arrivals Terminal, California_

-

Looking in anticipation, Chuck stood on his tip toes as he gently pushed his way to the front of the crowd.

This was the 10:35am flight; he was in the right airport, at the right gate…

Maybe she had been sitting at the back of the plane.

The flowers in his hand were already wilting with the crush of bodies around him, and he tried to pick one of the miserably drooping flower heads up again to no avail.

He sighed, debating whether to just drop them or not.

"Chuck!"

A touch on his shoulder turned him around, as his eyes widened in delight, drinking in the beautiful form of one Sarah Bartowski.

"Sarah!" He exclaimed happily, catching her around the waist and embracing her tightly, "I've missed you so much!"

She kissed his cheeks and his lips again and again as they stood in the midst of all the bustle like young couples were wont to do.

His wife laughed throatily as she smoothed her hand over his hair, looking at him affectionately before threading her hand securely through his.

"I have too, Chuck," she said, walking close by his side, a small travel bag in the other hand. "I managed to get some new investors for CI, and the boss is so happy he's going to give me a pay raise. We can finally get a bigger apartment!"

Chuck grinned at her uncontrollably, his heart practically floating as he noticed the light glint in her eyes, excitement still present in her face although he wasn't sure whether that remained from her assignment or from seeing him.

"We've got a long time to look," he said. "Bryce and I have earned some extra cash too, so we're well on our way."

Suddenly the smile dimmed a little as she turned to face him, "Chuck…"

He looked at her with wary eyes, unsure of her tone.

"I'm only staying for a few weeks…" she said slowly, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm being sent on another assignment to the middle of the country…"

He let go of her hand, staring at her unbelievingly. "You just got back!" He tried to say evenly, "And you're telling me—in the _arrivals_ area of the airport—that you're going to be leaving again?" His voice raised a few notches at the end of his sentence.

Sarah looked around as people started giving them concerned stares; she dragged him along and threw her arm out to flag for a taxi.

"Don't make a scene, Chuck," Sarah hissed, pushing him into the car first. "Let's talk about this at home."

With his arms crossed, he simply looked out of the window at the scenery flickering by, too fed up to talk about the new development even when he heard her move uncomfortably on the other side of the seat.

"Are those for me?" She asked meekly in a quiet voice, touching his arm.

He turned to watch her, handing them over without a word. Without apologizing for the state of the wilted leaves.

Frustration clogged up his throat, but he pushed it down as far as it could go. He would crack and blurt out something that would fracture the tentative balance between them even more if he lost control now.

Sarah looked sad as she brought them up to her nose, gazing at him through the top of the petals.

Chuck turned away again.

This was starting to become a recurring pattern. He had let her indulge her aspirations long enough, she seemed to be taking his submission for granted more and more, expecting for him to be at home waiting while she left for longer and longer periods of time.

Unspeakable anger at the demands of Sarah's job, and her willingness to let it rule their life fester in his churning heart.

-

_We push and pull_

_And I fall down sometimes_

_I'm not letting go_

_You hold the other line_

_Hold on _

_Hold tight_

_If I'm out of your sight_

_And everything keeps moving on_

_Moving on_

_Hold on _

_Hold tight_

_Make it through another night_

_Everyday, there comes a song_

_With the dawn_

-

**Bryce Larkin's party, 2005,** _Bachelor Pad, California_

-

"Instructor Montgomery, my mission is compromised," Sarah Walker said curtly, standing in the shadows of the archway as she watched Chuck having a heated conversation with Bryce, the former gesturing vaguely in her direction, looking a little lost.

"_How so_?" His voice emanated from the phone, his usually suave voice sounding gruff over the speakers. Sarah scrunched her eyebrows together in frustration.

"My mark has met my boyfriend at his party," she said, half annoyed at herself and half at Chuck's impeccable timing.

Montgomery snickered on the other end before cheerily responding, "It'll just be another obstacle to overcome if you want to go international in the future, Agent Walker. You know full well that in the real world, variables like these aren't moderated, so I won't either."

Clenching her hand, Sarah tried to control her voice as she spoke again, almost imploring, as close as her pride would allow her to, "Sir, this could ruin my boyfriend's relationship with his best friend and family. It is too personal," she said. "I have a more difficult test than the rest of my class."

Clucking in disapproval, his voice turned serious after a short pause, "Then you will come out above the rest of the class."

Before Sarah could protest her case anymore, he hung up, leaving her with no more encouragement than the dial tone in her ear.

As distracted as she was, she didn't notice Bryce until he was almost upon her, only starting slightly as he leaned his head down onto her shoulder, "Who was that?"

Turning around, she gave him a forced smile as she replied, "Work. I'm starting to make a name for myself around these parts." Gesturing randomly, she smiled approvingly as she tried to distract him, "Great party tonight, Bryce."

His eyes narrowed at her, but when she kissed him chastely on the lips, he relented by tugging her towards the main festivities. "Of course, it is our three week anniversary after all," he murmurs against her neck. "Still feels like we're in Afghanistan, doesn't it?"

Sarah looked around quickly, frowning as she rebuked him about his slip.

He spread his hands apologetically, making a motion of zipping up his lips.

"Oh hey," Bryce exclaimed after a moment, unable to stop talking, a little under the influence of various cocktails. "Let's go see Chuck."

When she resisted, he hollered for his friend across the yard.

Chuck looked up, and in a moment of serendipity, he met her gaze. She couldn't read his emotions, half his face is buried in the dark as the evening crept further towards morning, but she can certainly see his confusion.

Putting his empty bottle down, he walked steadily towards them, and when he crossed the halfway mark, only briefly pausing to slap an old classmate on the back, Sarah used that opportunity to excuse herself to the bathroom.

She couldn't possibly have anticipated this kind of coincidence, she assured herself, patting her hair that was falling around her ears and face back into place.

Chuck was the kind of person who would refuse to betray their loved ones, and Sarah hoped that he had not taken her advance on him at the Buy More too seriously, but even with that aside, how would she explain her apparent sudden interest in her boyfriend's friend?

_Bryce would understand,_ Sarah told herself, _he's an easy-going person, and we're not in too deep together yet, he would understand why I need to pass this assessment. _

She almost cursed when she realized she was banking on his bond with her to be stronger than his to Chuck.

This would require tricky maneuvering.

_-_

_Breathe in _

_And breathe out _

_Breathe in_

_And breathe out_

_Look left_

_Look right_

_To the moon _

_And the night_

_Everything under the stars_

_Is in your arms_

-

**Top Office, Central Intelligence Agency, early 2008**, _Langley, Virginia_

-

"Sit down, Agent Walker," The powerfully built man invites, authority in his quiet voice.

Sarah didn't think twice about not complying.

Planting his hand on the hardwood of his desk, Graham leaned against the edge, his crisp black suit tailored well enough that its seams didn't burst when his well-built torso moves.

She didn't know where to look. His brown shoes were shiny, she noticed randomly. When she tried to look him in the eye, the blackness intimidates her, as well as the feeling of dread that pooled in her chest, constricting her voice so much that she simply listened.

"I am aware," he enunciated slowly, "that you have been with this company for a long time. And during that time, you have shown to be one of our best agents in this generation."

Sarah almost thanked him for his appreciation of her work, only stopped by the powerful hunch that he was about to give her a proposition that she would be unable to refuse.

Chuck was waiting for her at home. She had been ordered here straight from Florida, and she had to redirect her flight to Washington, when she could have been at home, relaxing with her husband of nearly one year.

The director gathered his thoughts, and with the gracefulness and composure of a man who knew he had power, Graham took his time settling into his leather chair, before leaning forward, his fingers steepled.

She looked up, unable to tear her gaze away from his precise movements aimed precisely to command her attention.

"Your conditioning is first rate, in the top percentages of our active field agents," he remarked, thumbing through her remarkably thick file with ease, as he had plenty of time. "And your training was meant to prepare you for Intelligence work outside of the USA."

Sarah had almost been anticipating this from the first word he'd spoken after he sat down, and sat poker straight, trying to ignore the goose bumps that rose along her bare arms and up her skin under her professional grey silk blouse.

She wanted to say something, anything, but his presence compressed the air inside her lungs. Although she had been one of his protégés, it didn't make talking to a legend any easier.

She hadn't foreseen he'd go straight to the point, and it caught her off-guard for a moment.

Setting her heart in place, and thinking of Chuck waiting to welcome her back home, it restored a part of her confidence.

With a collected gaze, she refocused her eyes on him, setting her jaw tightly as he opened his mouth to speak again.

"I've got all the reports of your domestic assignments."

He pulled out a large stack of paper, and almost obsessive compulsively straightened it into a neat pile, the edges all perfectly in line as it rested innocently between his hands.

Glancing down, Sarah could see the red official "Approved" and "Complete" stamps firmly pressed into each of the sheets, and she couldn't deny a flash of pride that streaked through her heart.

"They are all highly-commended by the supervisors of those missions, and they have glowing compliments for your work."

He shuffled the stack an inch closer to her, as if tempting her to look down to see for herself.

"Now," he said firmly, his deep voice the only noise in the room, adorned with the American flag to one side of him as she looked over his shoulder, pictures he was present in with world leaders dusted and gleaming on the large shelf next to the window.

"Tell me, these domestic missions, they don't challenge you, do they?"

Graham smiled, the light never quite reaching his eyes, as he added, "Because by your perfect record here, it appears that it is just so."

He is silent, as if inviting her to speak. Sarah kept her mouth closed, and after a beat or two more, he nodded at her approvingly.

"Agent Walker, you could have been among the best in the world, first-class with MI-6 standards, working with the best and on your way to a good position anywhere in National Defense; CIA, NSA, politics- after _you_ decide to retire from active duty."

Sarah shocked herself as words come unbidden out of her mouth, "I'm satisfied where I am stationed currently," she declared with conviction, keeping firm eye contact with him.

Graham's lip curled in triumph, and Sarah sat back a little in her seat in caution as she raised her guard.

"Yes, I'm sure you are," he said gently. "You're merely _satisfied_."

Hiding his face as he looked down, he stood slowly, walking around the desk to the window on the left, five o'clock shadows elongating his dark silhouette.

"I'm sure your husband would be even more _satisfied_, if you two had more money for that apartment you had been eyeing last week." He paused, "Or maybe the company he wants to start with that comrade of his, _Larkin_."

Sarah stiffened with indignation and humiliation, as he flippantly revealed that he'd been keeping close tabs on her personal life.

"Even Larkin," Graham mentioned casually, "he's done some work for us. But you knew that."

He waited for her answer, and it's not a long time in coming, but Sarah knew he caught the slight catch in her voice, "My husband has been very understanding already, and I value the time I have with him. I –"

"So, he's the one holding you back."

Livid and helpless, Sarah folded her arms across her chest, her neck turning to watch him pace across to the other side of the room behind her.

"You may be a few years over the age where our Agents start getting sent abroad while they're fresh and in their prime," he informed her, "but you're still as sharp or sharper, as the best of them."

Again moving, he briefly passed his desk to pick up a sheaf of paper, and he read, glossing over parts, "One year apprenticeship," he stated, "Two thousand and five. Another year as a domestic worker, until one Chuck Bartowski proposes, and you marry him at the age of twenty-seven. Shortly after that, during your married bliss, in the same year, you accept the permanent position of a domestic operative. Am I right?"

Sarah just sat rigidly, watching him expressionlessly.

He continued, "And now, in early two thousand and eight, you sit here in my office, while I offer you the position as an International Agent and the potential to be known across the espionage society."

When she didn't answer, eyes staring stonily at him, he changed the direction of his recruitment speech, his voice softening.

"I had that in mind when I first scouted you, Sarah," he revealed, his tone almost fatherly. "Is it your father?"

The random question jolted Sarah out from her quietness, and she watched him turn his back to her as he stared out the window.

"Is that why you refuse to leave your husband?" he asked again, "Because of your father's absence in a large part of your own life?"

Sarah pursed her lips, surprised at his perception. She hadn't thought of that, but it did hit rather close to home.

"It was the CIA that finally caught him," she retorted, unable to maintain her silence. "It was you."

Graham turned to look at her, finally, about to give her an ultimatum. Sarah gripped one of the armrests of the chair with her fingers.

"Yes," he agreed cool eyes calculating, no longer warm. "But we gave you a life, and it can be taken away just as easily."

Sarah stiffened at the implied threat on Chuck, her defensiveness rising.

He strolled towards his desk, hand accidentally brushing away her file, revealing a thin one underneath that read, '_Potential test subjects. Project Omaha_.'

A shiver went up her back, and she couldn't avert her gaze from the simply labeled file.

Graham smiled evenly at her, as if he knew he held the trump card, throwing down a few pages of miniscule writing.

"Agent Walker, this is where you sign."

-

_'Cause there is a light_

_In your eyes_

_In your eyes_

_There is a light_

_In your eyes_

_In your eyes_

_There is a light_

_In your eyes_

_In your eyes_

_There is a light_

_In your eyes_

_In your eyes_

-

* * *

You'll be glad to know that I have finally written both a Chuck and Sarah POV on their thoughts of the past which will explain pretty much EVERYTHING. But it's quite far back into the double digit chapters not because I want to keep you hanging, but because both parts of the backstory ends at the same time as it's revealed what is happening in the present. So just be assured that it IS there.

For the **WHO ARE YOU challenge**, all submissions are in and voting will begin next weekend, so keep an eye out!! (.net/topic/49974/19023805/1/)

Let's keep making FL-history!

**PROMPT** (because I actually need to know)- I think that it's AWESOME and I'm not/understanding...?


	7. Whitu: Gone Going

Thanks for the comments and encouragement last chapter. Below isn't directed at anyone specific, because you guys were just being honest, but I'd just like to be clear about my answer to some concerns.

1) I'd just like to say I'm getting fed up with complaints about the slowness of the plot. The plot is not in Iraq, the plot is about a broken marriage. So if you are one of those people, read this below, and then go:

_Chuck landed in Iraq, seeing Sarah waiting for him. "Oh, I was installed with a mind-changing thing, it made me get all evil and bitchy."  
Chuck forgave her, and they kissed. Happily ever after._

2) It doesn't reveal much in the earlier chapters because back then I hadn't decided on the plot. It all came together naturally further on in Chapter 17 and 18 onwards. The jumping is because of what I said above, it contrasts between different years of Sarah.

This very angsty fic requires a lot of backtracking, because even if I told you everything, you wouldn't remember it because of the many details, so if you don't have the patience to read this, I suggest you bugger off now instead of being all whingy.

_Where'd You Go?_ –Fort Minor

Disclaimer: So, *pleasant smile* all happy? Awesome.

* * *

-

CHAPTER SEVEN

Gone Going.

-

_Where'd you go?  
I miss you so,  
Seems like it's been forever,  
That you've been gone._

-

**Sarah Walker, 2009,** _Streets of Washington, America_

-

_She said "Some days I feel like shit,  
Some days I wanna quit, and just be normal for a bit,"_

-

Her fingers gripped the last visible inches of the package as it balanced precariously between the outside world and the inside of the mailbox.

Staring hard at it, Sarah was whipped occasionally by the bustling behind her, businessmen making their way to work with coffees clutched in their hands and umbrellas in the other.

Her stylish black coat camouflaged in between the crush of people walking around her, but she was the only static pillar in amongst the frantic and busy. She looked up calmly when someone swept into her slightly, and as she watched people pace quickly past, she wondered how normal everything was, how she could be doing something like this, and no one would ever know. How insignificant she was in this whole world of billions.

There was a slight bump in the parcel, and inadvertently, her fingers brushed against it, as if instinctively attracted to it. Shivering, Sarah pulled her betraying left hand back to her, crushing it into a fist to avoid any temptation and shoved deep down into her pocket.

"No!" She cried uncharacteristically, her relaxed features contorting when a burly man brushed past her from the side, buffeting her, and forcing her single hand to let go of the mail to support her falling body against the large metal box.

Eyes wide, she pressed both hands against the small slit desperately, the brief flash of adrenaline from her shock made her wonder if she'd be arrested if she wrenched the small door at the back open to reclaim her letter.

_No_. She rested her forehead against the cool metal for a brief moment before her eyes hardened again, and she pressed her lips into a thin line. _It was better this way_.

She had chosen the right option. The other was something that was much more devastating. At least, with this choice, there was still a glimmer of hope.

"Sorry. I'm sorry," she whispered to no one, except the chilly winter air. The cars zipping past chased the barely audible words away, leaving her with her pink, frozen, bare fingers and nothing much else.

Nothing to hold her back.

-

_I don't understand why you have to always be gone,  
I get along but the trips always feel so long,  
And, I find myself trying to stay by the phone,  
'Cause your voice always helps me to not feel so alone,  
But I feel like an idiot, workin' my day around the call,  
But when I pick up I don't have much to say,_

_  
So, I want you to know it's a little fucked up,  
That I'm stuck here waitin', at times debatin',  
Tellin' you that I've had it with you and your career,  
Me and the rest of the family here singing "Where'd you go?"_

-

**Casa Woodcomb**, _Burbank, California_

-

Devon watched his wife clatter around their bedroom, almost obsessively compulsively clearing surfaces and straightening anything that looked remotely askew.

She had been distracted all week, barely paying any attention to anything other than trying to keep herself busy. _It had to be bad for Kid Awesome_, he thought to himself, but he had long since learned to get out of the way between Ellie and a mess that she was adamant on cleaning up.

When he wasn't being awesome, Awesome didn't quite know how to conduct himself. He was quite sure his intense seduction techniques and his usual boisterous attitude wouldn't be appreciated.

Even his tender side wasn't tender enough. It usually worked when Chuck needed some man-coddling, but it never worked whenever Ellie was in this mood.

Really, there was nothing he could do. Running her a hot bubble bath and a romantic dinner would only make her angry that he wasn't taking this predicament seriously.

Her brother was the only one sensitive enough to calm her down without getting mowed over by her furious stress relief tactics.

And soon Chuck would be gone, leaving Awesome to look after Ellie in all aspects, picking up the large amount of slack Chuck left whenever he had to go.

Awesome knew how much Ellie loved her brother, if he was a woman-

_Don't go there_, he admonished himself.

If he was… If he was put into their situation, he wasn't sure he could have made it as well as they had. Without Chuck, Ellie seemed to be lost, as if he was literally part of her.

Poor Ellie. As strong as she was, her brother was like her own child, raised from childhood, and being with him twenty-nine years, she still hated to be separated from him further than an area phone call away.

Ellie loved both Chuck and Devon equally, splitting her time between them, and Awesome was perfectly fine with that.

"Hey," he said as he snagged her wrist when she swept past him, "Ellie."

When she looked at him, formerly neatly brushed hair now in disarray, her dinner clothes skewed, he found he had nothing to say, but simply stood up with a gentle smile.

"Come on, babe," he said, pulling the basket from her clammy hands. "We'll be late for dinner with Chuck."

Her hard expression softened for a moment, and she picked up her coat, intending to head out of the door.

Awesome hoped he had gotten through at least slightly to her, but he received no indication other than the slight shift of her features.

He lifted his own coat from the back of the sofa on the way out through the door, closing it shut behind him.

Ellie was already in the car, and it was only till he closed the driver's door that she turned her head, leaving it leaned against the window.

She picked up his hand, and he was relieved to see her in Doctor-Ellie-in-control mode.

"Thank you," she said, and it was enough to lift his own spirits exponentially, encouraged that he was at least doing _something_ right.

-

_You know the place where you used to live,  
Used to barbecue up burgers and ribs,  
Used to have a little party every Halloween with candy by the pile,  
But now, you only stop by every once and a while,  
Shit, I find myself just fillin' my time,  
With anything to keep the thought of you from my mind,  
I'm doin' fine, I plan to keep it that way,  
You can call me if you find that you have something to say,  
And I'll tell you, I want you to know it's a little fucked up,  
That I'm stuck here waitin', at times debatin',  
Tellin' you that I've had it with you and your career,  
Me and the rest of the family here singing "Where'd you go?"_

-

**Bartowski Apartment**, _California_

-

With an extra ten minutes till the taxi arrived, Chuck sat at the table to wait.

Surrounded by a huge landfill of epic proportions, consisting of mangled wrapping, ribbons of different colors and widths and balled up sticky tape, he carefully finished off the present, as he curled the ends of the blue colored streamer with scissors.

In the dim light of the apartment, Chuck looked half mad as he scrutinized the present with a critical eye, as a doctor would subject their patient to with careful precision.

With a sigh, he picked it up, letting it settle into his palms as he held it carefully.

He had picked up a container for mailing the present in earlier, and he lowered the present into the bubble wrapped sides with painstaking care to avoid scraping any loose sides of the delicate wrap. He slid the silver envelope into the side, glad it just fit snuggly.

Vivid in hand, ready to scrawl an address onto the mail box, he suddenly realized he didn't know where to send the tightly taped up box.

He didn't know where she was staying in Berlin…or somewhere near there, he thought, repeating Carina's words. She still hadn't rung back, and he could only assume she hadn't heard his messages.

There were _so many_ messages she hadn't heard from him, this time not in terms of cell voicemail. Chuck wished he could tell his wife about the project he had been working on for more than a year now. He wished he could tell her how much he missed her. How much he wanted to please her.

He dropped his head into his hand, furrowing his eyebrows. He needed a solution.

He couldn't think of any except a single one for his first problem. Chuck didn't like it, but he knew the only option was to leave it at Central Imaging headquarters.

Glancing at his watch, he tucked the whole shebang under his arm before loping down the metal steps of the fire escape (the only exit from the building).

_-_

_I want you to know it's a little fucked up,  
That I'm stuck here waitin', no longer debatin',  
Tired of sittin' and hatin' and makin' these excuses,  
For why you're not around, and feeling so useless,  
It seems one thing has been true all along,  
You don't really know what you've got 'til it's gone,  
I guess I've had it with you and your career,  
When you come back I won't be here and you can sing it..._

_-_

"Hi," he greeted the driver, handing him the fare in advance before doing the seatbelt.

He met the driver's glance in the rear view mirror. "Could you stop by CI before the restaurant, please?"

The man grunted, flicking the indicator on and pulling out into the traffic.

Chuck frowned, his hand freezing over straightening his clothes for a second.

He looked up again, and almost jumped when he realized the driver was still looking at him, smirking.

"John!" Chuck shouted loudly in excitement, almost bouncing off his seat, grinning at the man in front.

The man let out a harsh bark of laughter before responding, "Bartowski. Took you long enough to recognize me."

Chuck placed his hand on his shoulder, taking it off again quickly when John sent him a glare. "Don't distract the driver," he said, trying to sound angry.

None too put off, Chuck laughed in sheer disbelief again. "Couldn't recognize you without the camo paint and dust streaks, buddy."

"And you look mangy without all the bulk the combat gear provides," John snarked in return.

Chuck just shook his head, still smiling. "John Casey. My personal taxi driver," he said delightedly. "Who would've guessed?"

Casey scowled at him. "No Chuck, I'm going to abduct you. Better than you getting sent off tomorrow anyway," he added.

The mood in the car drastically shifted, as Chuck looked down, deciding not to make a crack about Casey's sexual orientation in reference to his kidnapping and instead, staying silent.

"Well," Casey amended, "at least I'll be there for you while you try and get killed by attempting one of your stupid stunts."

Chuck looked up sharply. "You got recalled?"

Casey was quiet, but to Chuck's surprise, he was serious when he said, "Who else is gonna keep you from accidentally opening fire on friendlies?"

"Aw," Chuck said lightly, feeling awkward with Casey's unexpected reply, "Sugar Bear's getting sentimental in his old age, is he?"

"Shut up," Casey said gruffly, trying to cover up his slip. "I just don't want to be the one in hot water with your dear wife for letting your pretty face get screwed up, moron."

Chuck looked down at the present. "Yeah," he responded dully.

He could feel Casey's gaze on him, but he knew the other man would never bring up any touchy topics unless it was the only thing that kept the world from melting.

"That for her?" Casey asked, nodding to the box in Chuck's hands.

Chuck smiled weakly, "It's our anniversary the day we're scheduled to touch down in Iraq."

Casey didn't reply, his eyes grim.

"Well," he said as they finally pulled up to CI, "hurry it up." He told Chuck, "Or I'll leave you stranded here. I've had my fun being your driver and there's only so much time before the real driver of this taxi regains consciousness."

Chuck tumbled out from the car, his long legs eating up the length of the plain foyer as he neared the lobby. The place was strangely blank for a design company, he thought dubiously, stepping through the metal detector and nodding politely to the two sharp-eyed guards.

His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar brunette staffing the counter.

"Hey, Mr. Bartowski," she said cheerily, automatically handing him a dusty visitors badge after scanning it through the system. "Haven't seen you around here in a while."

He leaned awkwardly against the desk. "I've been busy. New company and all," he said, trying not to show the effect her astute remark had on him.

"Well," she said warmly, "I've missed you, and the sandwich discussions we had while you waited for your wife to finish work back then."

Chuck looked wistful as he clipped the badge onto his shirt, "Yeah, me too."

"I've nearly finished my shift, and I need to rush back home for a dinner with my parents, or I'd stay and talk with you, Chuck," she said, actually looking disappointed.

"I'll try and stop by more often," he assured her, giving her a hug and a kiss on the cheek as she stepped around the counter while she waited for her replacement.

She smiled at him, and he continued, backing away to the guest entrance. "See you later, Maria."

"Take care," she called out as he rounded the corner, and he waved in response.

With a bounce in his step, he stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the seventh floor.

There was only one man in it, leanly muscled and well-dressed who looked at him appraisingly before looking blankly at the elevator door again.

He didn't recognize the other man, but then again, Chuck hadn't been here in a while.

It glided up smoothly, and he tilted his head up to the ceiling curiously when he realized there was no elevator music. That was one to ponder with Morgan, he thought, as he entered the hallway, glancing at the name plaques on each individual door.

"Sarah _Walker_," he read, the name glinting off the gold background, trying not to feel too disappointed.

_Where should I put this?_ he thought as he glanced around the unembellished walls, the only personal feature being the plant sitting in the corner of the room.

He felt almost intrusive here, even though he'd been here a handful of times before. This was Sarah's office, he had never heard her mention anything about her work in detail, and although he was itching to discover more of her work by looking around, he felt as if he were overstepping his bounds as a husband. He needed to trust her.

She probably had a reason why she never spoke about what she did or never brought her work home; maybe she wanted to focus on him alone after work, he tried to convince himself.

Clutching the gift to his chest, he made his way to her desk in a few small steps, the room moderately sized, only home to a bookshelf, a locked filing cabinet, a few adornments and a desk that had a completely empty surface.

Reaching out, he placed the box carefully on the surface, wishing he'd left the postage box at home, although he hadn't predicted he wouldn't be able to get it flown over to her so she wouldn't have to wait till she got back to claim this.

Stepping back, he stuck his hands in his pockets, trying to restrain his curiosity.

The present looked small and out of place on the polished surface of the desk, and his particular side wanted to move it a little more to the left to make it look more aesthetically pleasing.

Reaching out, he straightened it, aligning it parallel to the edge of the desk before withdrawing his hand.

_Clack_.

The small object that fell off the desk with a clatter made Chuck wince with it's loudness in proportion to the dead silence of the room.

He bent to pick it up, instinctively glancing at the picture before fully intending to place it exactly where it had been at an angle to the desk chair.

_It was of him and her._

Swallowing tightly, he rubbed the side of the wooden frame with his thumb, unable to look directly at the blindingly bright smiles they had in the photo during a trip with Devon and his sister to the mountains that very first year they started dating.

It meant nothing, he reminded himself, stealing another irresistible look at it before placing it down again so he couldn't see the faces anymore. Trying to ignore the pressure in his throat, he cleared it and looked around.

He felt a slight bit of unease at staying in the room too long. It was oddly quiet, and he assumed most of the employees had gone home. Even Maria's replacement was just there for an hour more or so to make sure everything was locked and the paperwork was done.

With one last glance around the office, he slipped out the door, murmuring, "Happy Anniversary," to the empty room before closing the door with a soft click.

-

_Where'd you go?  
I miss you so,  
Seems like it's been forever,  
That you've been gone.  
Where'd you go?  
I miss you so,  
Seems like it's been forever,  
That you've been gone,  
Please come back home...  
Please come back home...  
Please come back home…_  
_Please come back home...  
Please come back home..._

-

* * *

Lol. I had to change 'sellotape' to 'sticky tape' so you Americans would understand :)

Review if you dare. :P By the way, I'm not going to defend what I'm writing any more, so suck it up.

Oh and Myst's gone off on holiday and to write Round Robin, so the next chapters may lack a little bit of finesse. Thank god for mxpw!

Oh and I'll try to update quicker, but don't expect any replies to your reviews anymore!


	8. Waru: Open Wounds

Hey thanks for the reviews. Please remember- I do take them into account, but if you don't like how I'm writing, then just don't read it! Duh.

This is just a further look into their relationship, it follows on from the airport scene in Chapter 6, I think. With a time skip of course.

You have mxpw to thank for his prompt beta-ing or I'd never be bothered to update :)

Moo! Here's your update :P I'm not gonna say I'll post the next one quick just incase I jinx myself like last time.

Disclaimer: Yeah people are paranoid, so I'll put this here for their state of mind.

* * *

-

CHAPTER EIGHT

Open Wounds.

-

**Unnamed ward, LA Hospital, 2008**, _California_

-

Chuck burst through swinging open doors, weaving his way erratically through family members of patients and nurses wheeling gurneys.

Even at his time, there were more people than he had expected in the hospital.

Breathless, he skidded to a halt in front of the main desk, chest heaving and hair wild.

"Sarah," he gasped without prompting, confused when the nurse looked at him strangely. "Sarah- Bartowski," he repeated unnecessarily, sucking in huge lungfuls of sanitized hospital air.

"Sir," she said calmly, pulling up a file on the computer in front of her, "There's no one by that name. The closest is… a Sarah Walker here at the moment. She's still in surgery."

Chuck was too disorientated to notice the absence of her married name, and simply sagged against the counter in relief. "Yes, that's her!"

The nurse clicked something on the screen as Chuck watched her anxiously. She froze for a split second when something came up with a soft prompt noise. Chuck was immediately alert.

"What?" he asked quickly, planting both hands on the counter, trying to crane his neck around to see the display, "What is it?"

The nurse composed herself, clicking again to close the pop-up. She simply gathered a handful of colourful forms from beneath the desk, pausing, "You're her boyfriend? Husband?"

Nodding, he patted his untamed hair down, nervously tapping his foot on the floor. "That's right. Husband. I'm her husband."

At his answer, her shoulders lost some of the tension. With a business-like air, she shoved the stack in his hands, along with a pen, gesturing over to the waiting room. "I'll give you periodic updates," she said. "It'll be a while; she's only been in the operating theater for an hour or so."

Chuck, at a loss of what to do, thanked her absently. Unable to summon anything other than a weak smile at her sympathetic look, he held the papers tightly as he duck his head, walking further into the waiting room as people looked up instinctively as he passed them.

Sitting down on the hard plastic chair furthest from the entrance in relative peace, he looked down at the forms, only then noticing the pajamas that he had hastily donned over his boxers on his way out the door.

Dazedly, he cast the forms aside, trying to resist hugging his legs to his chest like a child.

_Ellie_.

Chuck's head shot up, he'd forgotten to tell her about Sarah. He groped his pant legs blindly only to find no pockets and no phone. It was probably still sitting on the lounge sofa where he had thrown it after he had ended the call and scrambled into clothes in the dead of night.

His sister had a shift now, but he wasn't sure whether she on call.

Approaching the nurse again, his heart still throbbing painfully fast in his worry for his wife, he choked out, "Could you please page Doctor Bartowski?"

Ellie had opted to keep her maiden name to avoid confusion between her and Devon. Besides, she said, she wanted to keep him company as a Bartowski.

"I'm her brother," he added unnecessarily.

The nurse had a double-take at his words. "Are you Chuck? Oh my god," she said. "It's your wife, _Ellie_'s sister-in-law, in there!"

If it were under any other circumstances, he would've rolled his eyes.

She quickly apologized again, realizing her lack of tact. "I'll page her now, of course," she said quickly. "I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," he responded, wandering back to his seat, aware of her eyes still on his back.

Trying to look absorbed in the four-leaf clover pattern on his pajama pants (a gift from Casey, who'd said it would help him get lucky), he gripped the armrest with white knuckles, keeping his ears diligently open for his sister's approach.

"Chuck!" He heard her shout as she walked briskly to him. His head shot up. A frown on her features, "What happened!? Where's Sarah? How is she?"

Chuck allowed her to pull him into a bone-crushing embrace while she fretted over his wife. "I don't know," he said quietly. "They haven't told me anything yet."

Ellie huffed. "Wait here," she commanded, releasing him, "I'll have a word with Dorothy."

He watched as she walked up to the counter, sweet smile on her face as she pulled the doctor's coat further around her shoulders in emphasis.

Chuck collapsed back into the seat, rubbing his eyes with his hands in tiredness.

Footsteps headed back towards him after a minute, and he felt Ellie's hand on his shoulder. "Chuck, Sarah's got internal injuries. The weird thing was that she had a broken arm too, but it was already fixed up when she got taken in for these particular wounds."

He looked up at her. "What? If she was in an accident, how come they didn't notice the injuries inside?"

Ellie shrugged, "I don't know much about it, Chuck. They told me that she collapsed on the plane. Something must have been wrong with her when she got on."

"How could –" Chuck shook his head, unable to form any words. He was much too worried about her to bother speculating on what had caused her to need to be rushed into the ER in the first place.

His sister sat down beside him, pulling him close so that his head rested on her shoulder. "She'll be okay, Chuck, they said it was bad, but now she's stable. They'll be done soon."

Chuck fell into a kind of a daze as he watched the going-ons blankly, feeling Ellie stroke his back in a motherly way.

Distantly he heard his name called only ten minutes later. "Chuck! Ellie!"

Devon strode into the room, all eyes on him. His presence attracted much attention as his voice boomed through the room. He spotted them and disregarding everyone else, he strode towards them, slinging his stethoscope around his neck.

Ellie looked up with a sad smile, staying by Chuck as her husband approached.

"Hey man," Devon said as he crouched in front of Chuck. "One of the nurses told me a Bartowski was hurt, I came down as quick as I could."

Chuck offered him a grim smile. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I appreciate it, Devon."

Devon's brilliant smile appeared, equal parts comforting and supportive, managing to keep his awesomeness intact even in these circumstances. "She's family, Chuck. I have to be here."

Ellie reached out and touched her husband's cheek in affection. She glanced at her watch before asking Devon, "Will you look after my brother please?"

Kissing Chuck's cheek, she stood, "It's nearly time for my shift. Sorry Chuck, I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Thanks for coming Ellie," Chuck said, "I'll ring you when she's out of surgery."

Hugging Ellie before she left, Devon sat down in the seat Ellie had just vacated, leaning back with a sigh as he kept Chuck company.

The minutes trickled by as Chuck waited impatiently, eyes fixed on the nurse at the station wondering when she'd get new information about Sarah.

It had been Sarah's first international assignment for CI in Prague. She had assured him she'd come home perfectly fine. Cursing at himself for not joining her there, he wished he had insisted, despite her refusal to let him come because of his own fledging company that needed attention.

During the two weeks she had been away, he'd received one short letter from her, signed _SB_, only two sentences long. He had never thought to ask why she didn't bother just sending a text. Or why it had been so short.

"Mr. Bartowski?"

Chuck's head shot up for the second time tonight, so fast he felt his neck crack. He felt Devon straighten beside him. "That's me," Chuck said hastily. "How's Sarah?" he asked loudly, leaning forward and half-rising from his seat.

The surgeon clasped his hands together, "She's fine. She'll wake up in two hours or so. Her injuries weren't too serious, we discovered, but bad enough."

Chuck breathed a sigh of relief as he stood up, shaking the doctor's hand enthusiastically. "Thank you," he said. "Thank you so much."

The other man clapped his shoulder friendlily, "Just doing my job, Mr. Bartowski."

"And you're doing an awesome job," the captain declared, his voice taking on a happy lilt as he peered at the doctor's nametag. "Can we see her now?"

Dr. Stanton stepped back. "If you'll follow me, I'll take you to her."

Chuck was hot on his heels as the doctor turned, giddy and eager to see Sarah after being separated for so long. At first, he had wondered how he would survive not seeing his wife around as often when she'd taken the international job. Her domestic job had taken her away too, but he had been pacified that she had still been in the country. Instead, now she flew thousands of miles away to foreign countries on a regular basis.

They turned into a section of the hospital he'd never been in before, and he heard Devon mutter inaudibly behind him. Chuck craned his neck around to look curiously at him, and Devon shook his head before he spoke.

"Dr. Stanton," Devon asked, "why is Sarah being kept in these wards?"

Chuck looked from him to the doctor while his brother in law elaborated, "These are usually reserved for celebrities and…" he dropped his voice so that the other man couldn't hear, "and government officials."

Leaning closer, Chuck kept his voice as low as Devon's, unsure why he was being so secretive, "What, like the FBI?"

Devon hesitated, "Yeah, something like that."

Chuck nodded dismissively, just wanting to get to Sarah.

The doctor held his badge up for identification for the guards standing on the other side. Pressing his palm to the wall scanner, the deceptively thin glass doors slid open noiselessly and security nodded them through.

"Her employers must think she's worth the extra cost and care," Stanton explained. "It must be a prominent company."

Chuck didn't answer, looking at the room numbers that flashed by as they strode quickly through the wing.

Ahead, a well-built man closed the door gently at the end of the hallway, looking up to give them a handsome grin as they approached. Chuck watched as he walked past them quickly. His polished shoes clacked over the floor, coiffed hair slightly rumpled to lend a casual tone to his well tailored suit.

"She's in here," the doctor announced, stopping at the door the man had just exited.

Alarmed, Chuck whipped around just to witness the smallest glimpse of his retreating back before he turned the corner, out of sight.

Any thought of pursuing the man fled from his mind as Devon pushed him into the room. His brother-in-law stepped behind him like a sentinel while the doctor moved into the room, moving easily around the room as he checked the lines, tubes and monitors.

Chuck looked around anywhere but the bed in the middle of the suite, heart hammering, yearning to see his wife, but knowing he'd hate how out of character she would look; all lifeless, with no ready smile that always lit up her face when she saw him.

In the corner of the room closest to the window, he noticed a large bouquet of colourful flowers sitting on the ledge.

Averting his gaze, he swallowed the guilt, regretting the fact that he hadn't thought to bring flowers for her. What kind of husband was he?

"She's just sleeping," the doctor said to Chuck, when he finally let his eyes settle on her motionless body, her skin frighteningly pale, blending into the sheets around her. "She'll have a full recovery."

Chuck gravitated towards the bed as if his legs were on autopilot. Standing next to the bed, he was almost afraid to touch her.

When he summoned up the courage to pick up her cool hand, her smooth skin sliding against his, Devon and the doctor had already quietly left the room.

"Sarah," he breathed, his fingers gliding over her forehead as he smoothed her golden hair back from her face. Chuck gazed at her for a moment, his heart physically constricting as he took in her fragile form. Sarah was not vulnerable often; she was the one who was his pillar, the one who pushed their relationship, remembered Morgan's birthday.

He wasn't used to this Sarah. Quiet, none of the life he had always seen in her, private- Now Chuck realised he wasn't talking about this situation anymore.

He pulled a nearby chair over, discarding his train of thought as his heart melted, seeing her resting _unburdened_ on the bed. Sitting on the edge as he propped his elbow onto the bed, he kissed her knuckles gently.

Chuck didn't remember when he laid his head down, but the next time he woke up, blinking through the darkness of the room; blinds' obscuring any light from outside, Sarah was shifting restlessly in her bed as she muttered indistinctly.

"Sarah?" he asked, fully alert. "Sarah!"

He leaned closer, putting his ear by her mouth.

"Can you hear me?" he asked hopefully again, willing for anything to come out of her mouth. He just needed proof she was still with him, still alive, still his wife.

She spoke again, quietly, and Chuck froze when he heard the name. Her hand slipped limply from his grasp as he shifted his chair back with a painful screech.

A bit louder, she repeated, voice scratched and skin starting to flush with life, "Cole?"

-

* * *

BAHA. So now I'm just being mean to Chuck. Just because people hate it.

Next chapter, Sarah flies out to you know where :D

Oh yeah! WHO ARE YOU Challenge fics are up. Support your fav authors. I'll post the next six sometime today or tomorrow. Yeah. I hope.

Ah I'm hungry for a McDonalds McMuffin :S


	9. Iwa: Let me Fall

It's been a while, hasn't it? :)

A day before a two super important exams, and I'm here posting as well as distracted by a 20k new fic I've cooked up for the fandom that I ditched a year ago.

There is no hope for me after all.

TwotoTenth made this chapter so much better. I didn't realise how much polishing this chapter needed to go through! Thanks for stepping up to help while Myst is MIA :D

And mxpw as always gives me awesome feedback as well as uncovers many many problematic plot holes along the way lol

_Broken Strings_- Nelly Furtado, James Morrison

Disclaimer: you know, what if someone completely coincidently used the same characters of Chuck in an awesome story while having never watched an episode?

* * *

CHAPTER NINE

Let me fall.

-

_Let me hold you for the last time_

_It's the last chance to feel again_

_But you broke me, now I can't feel anything_

-

**Aircraft transport, C-17, 2009, **_Two hours past Saudi border, Iraq_

-

Sarah sat in the corner farthest from the mouth of the plane, which gaped wide open like some sort of mythical portal to another world. The complete inky blackness swallowed the edges of the platform and extended far, far down into the depths towards the earth.

Her departure from Washington and arrival at Charleston Air Force Base seemed a lifetime away, feeling as if she were in another world, where culture was so different, and time seemed to shudder to a slow moving halt.

Clad in camouflage gear, gun strapped firmly to her chest, knives hidden in her ankle sheathe for easy access, hiking bag secured to her shoulders – she was carrying enough supplies to survive in the desert for at least three days in case she missed her landing coordinates.

She wasn't planning on that. She was much too professional to miss a mark. Sarah had learnt her lesson the first time she'd overshot the landing zone as a rookie, spending the next two hours trawling the giant fields as her fellow agents settled in for cold drinks and a tan.

The chains clinked around her as the aircraft shuddered with turbulence, and she felt herself straining against the straps that secured her to the seat, her breaths rattling like Darth Vader's as she drew in the pure oxygen as evenly as she could.

Ignoring her solitary companion's flurry of activity, she gently wriggled the engagement ring from her finger, holding it up in the scant light.

The heaviness in her chest had nothing to do with the anticipation for the airdrop.

Linking it through the silver necklace she already wore, she tucked it under her shirt, letting it dangle near her heart, the metal cool against her breastbone as she pulled on thick gloves to protect her skin against the frigid temperatures of an altitude so high.

The intercom fizzled pathetically, clearly in need of some of Chuck's attention. The pilot's voice lost in translation through the speakers, but Sarah was experienced enough to know that it was time. She unbuckled herself and performed a quick last minute check-over.

She walked toward the swirling air, her steady steps belying the hammering of her heart. She felt lightheaded, but it had nothing to do with the extra oxygen she'd inhaled from the tank. She looked down, swallowing hard before struggling to clear her thoughts and achieve the concentration she needed for the jump.

The green light flickered on, and she glanced back to see Cole giving her the thumbs up.

Setting her jaw, she stepped from the plane before she could hesitate any more. The winds buffeted her roughly as she whirled through the night.

As she extended her arms, she could feel herself slowing slightly, enough to direct herself with the guide of the GPS attached to the sleeve of her jumpsuit. It quickly became rather soothing, the air cradling her body as if it were a giant hand, nothing indicating she was falling in hundreds of miles per hour, her helmet blocking out the whistling of the wind that rushed past her head.

Sarah hated these interludes. High-altitude jumps and any time in between the action during missions gave her entirely too much time to think. She could almost imagine Chuck's voice in her head, telling her laughingly that most people wouldn't bother thinking quite so much while falling through the air from ridiculous heights. That is, if he _really_ knew what she did for a living.

With so many close scrapes, she knew Chuck had his suspicions. He would have to be an idiot not to suspect something off, and Chuck was certainly not an idiot. The man was loyal to a fault, his unwavering trust tended to overshadow his intelligence, and she was pretty sure he always passed them off as the product of his overactive imagination from watching too many movies.

She'd been warned many times that agent-civilian marriages never lasted. Full of youthful foolishness, convinced that love could conquer anything, she'd disregarded the advice. They _had _loved each other fiercely. It had been a wonderful few years, the time they'd dated.

When their relationship had started slipping, she had ignored the impending landslide by immersing herself in her work. A vicious cycle started, and she was soon exhausted by being bitter, angry with Chuck, for something she'd let happen. She hadn't quite understood the ramifications until they were suddenly staring straight at her.

_Irreconcilable differences_. She had decided long ago to put that down as the reason for their inevitable separation even before signing, literally, her life (or what remained) away for this assignment. He just couldn't understand her anymore. How could he, when she couldn't offer him any reason? It was all classified. He couldn't know she killed people for a living, couldn't ask why she never wanted to cut up the chicken when they were making dinner, or would ever be allowed to understand why they had ended up like this; why it had slipped out of their fingers no matter how hard they tried.

Well at least with the CIA's insistence she adhere to their 'guidelines', they would both be protected - her cover for this mission solid, and him safe in LA without any links to her.

_What happened to keeping your head in the game?_ She asked herself, angry that her personal life had once again managed to distract her from her job.

Sarah refocused her eyes below, but thanks to the complete absence of lights, she couldn't make out anything distinct from the landscape this far out.

_Time. _

The word reminded her to check her watch. As her mental countdown approached zero, she reached for the tab and tugged it firmly. The breath left her lungs as the parachute jerked upwards, slowing her fall significantly as she drifted toward the bleak landscape.

Sarah was glad it was night. The darkness veiled her descent so that she was framed like a dark mushroom in the pitch-black sky. She hoped she could pass as an irregularly shaped cloud if any body would happen to chance upon her descent.

The incoming ground shuddered upwards as she fought to keep herself as steady as possible against the drag, and although the light over-currents barely deterred the course of her parachute, she was ready to control the chute in precaution of low blowing winds that may catch the billowing fabric after landing. Her legs broke her pinpoint landing, the impact harder than usual due to the lower altitude she was forced to deploy at for the surrounding landscape's cover. A bloom of dust ballooned around her she tilted her weight backwards proficiently onto her rear, collapsing in relief onto the dirt, her hands already unclipping the material efficiently.

Glancing at her watch while she stuffed the parachute under a cluster of small boulders nearby, she scanned the sky for signs of Cole, but the sky was all dark patches from her position, making it impossible to track movement.

Marking the time, she gave herself ten minutes before she would have to start heading north without him.

Lying down prone, she rested her head against her arms, trying to keep absolutely still, appreciating the brief respite before she needed absolute one-minded focus on her assignment.

A dark figure caught her eye eight minutes in, and she warily lifted her head off her support and reached slowly back for her pistol.

Her tracking signal vibrated against her hand as her watch blinked for a second, indicating Cole's approach. Keeping her hand firmly gripped around the gun, she held it up cautiously, unwilling to take any chances- especially at the beginning of the assignment.

"Walker," the man hissed, his voice carrying traces of a British accent, "it's me."

She stood slowly, the fall and then the wait making her muscles cramp a little. Moving to him assuredly, she spoke, "The safe house isn't too far from here. It's one of those outlying buildings."

Cole grunted, checking his compass instinctively to make sure.

"It'll take two hours at least," he agreed. "Better get going before the sun rises."

-

_When I love you and so untrue_

_I can't even convince myself_

_When I'm speaking it's the voice of someone else_

_Oh, it tears me up_

_I tried to hold on but it hurts too much_

_I tried to forgive bit it's not enough_

_To make it all okay_

-

**Army compound, 2009, **_Ft Bragg, USA_

-

Lifting the duffle further over his shoulder and gripping the strap tightly, Chuck stepped into the boundaries of the compound, the security gates behind him. Staying at home was much too depressing, so leaving early to report in seemed to be his only choice. The familiar sight of the desert camo uniforms already donned in preparation for departure, the metallic clinks of ammo belts, and the smell of recently-greased weapons all permeated his senses, reminding him of all the other times he'd fought for his country.

"Chuck Bartowski," he offered listlessly to the man holding the clipboard that appeared to contain a list of names. The other soldier ticked Chuck's name off and gave him a sympathetic smile. He'd seen many men pass through before him with the same dull conviction that came with the wearying experience of war.

"Head over to the medical bay for your physical," he directed, pointing to the left. Seeing the very slim chance Chuck would be rejected, he added, "Welcome back to active duty."

Chuck rolled his eyes, trudging towards the building the soldier had indicated, men crowded outside in a messy line. He settled in to wait behind the group with a despondent sigh.

His ears were attuned to the conversations beside him, but he thought he heard the faint sound of his name being called. Passing it off as his imagination, he considered checking his bag again to make sure the disk was still in its hard case at the bottom.

"Chuck!"

His head jerked up, swiveling to face the voice just in time to receive a large hug, brown silky hair in his mouth and a waft of feminine perfume up his nostrils.

"Jill!"

-

_You can't play our broken strings_

_You can't feel anything_

_That your heart don't want to fell_

_I can't tell you something that ain't real_

_Oh, the truth hurts and lies worse_

_How can I give anymore_

_When I love you a little less than before?_

-

**Bartowski apartment, 2009**, _California_

-

Ellie placed the key on the table as she stood in the center of Chuck's apartment, looking around at the drawn curtains and somber tone of the walls.

She'd promised him to look after everything. He had insisted, just in case Sarah came back while he was gone. To appease him on their last night out as a family, Ellie had also promised to look out for any letters or email that Sarah might send him from Berlin.

As much as she hated herself for it, she couldn't help the inkling of doubt that crept in that Sarah would _ever_ come home. She loved the other woman like a sister, but as Sarah got higher and higher up in her company ranks, taking on those overseas assignments, she also became more distant. Finally, after her third long trip, this one to Bangkok, Ellie had been frightened at Sarah's expression when she'd stepped off the plane into LAX, the look fleeting because once Sarah approached, smile clearly plastered across her face, Ellie wondered if she'd been hallucinating about Sarah's arrival after all.

Much as she loved Sarah, Chuck was her brother. When he wasn't listening to common sense, it was her responsibility to step in. She knew Chuck loved Sarah very much, she could just hope he'd listen to her reasoning - anyone's reasoning - sooner rather than later. Ellie was constantly torn between Chuck's short-term happiness and what she felt would be better for him in the long run. As his denial seemed to mount, she almost found herself joining in, doing her best to understand her sister-in-law.

After Jill, Chuck had constructed formidable emotional walls. But once he'd lowered them for Sarah, he'd given everything he had to their relationship. Ellie suspected that he continued to persist to spare himself. He'd pretend nothing was wrong, rather than admit he'd failed again with Sarah. She knew Chuck was just holding off the inevitable crush of emotions that would come if his marriage ever shattered. Her brother was deathly afraid of repeating the heartbreak that Jill had caused him the first time around.

The phone rang, and Ellie realized she'd spent nearly five minutes rooted to the living room floor, lost in thought and gazing at the wedding pictures on the mantle.

"Hello?" she asked curiously into the mouthpiece. "Yes, this is Chuck Bartowski's residence."

Ellie propped the phone between her shoulder and her neck, "Okay."

Feeling nonplussed, she hung up, waiting for the delivery boy who had been entrusted with the_ Airmail_ package.

Within two minutes, there was a knock on the door. Peeking through the spy hole, she unlocked the door.

"Chuck Bartowski," the teenager said, blushing when she stared at him unintentionally, lost in her speculations. "It's from one Sarah B."

_That's a change_, Ellie thought. _Sarah never sent mail to Chuck while she was away_.

"Thank you," she said to the boy, pressing a few loose coins into his hand.

Attention already fully fixed on the brown package in her hands; she closed the door and made her way slowly to the couch.

Chuck _had_ told her to keep his mail safe and inform him of the important ones. And this one was definitely an important one, as proof it was sent from _Sarah Bartowski_. She knew the other woman used her maiden name on her business trips frequently, so the decision to use her married name on this package was intriguing.

Or perhaps she was just over thinking it. Ellie knew she was prone to that.

Biting her lip, she edged her fingers under the flap, gently prying it apart.

"Sarah," she said, gritting her teeth. Holding the paper between her fingers firmly, she prepared to pull it out, "This had better be good."

Drawing the stack out carefully as if holding her soon to come newborn, she couldn't help her eyes scanning over the document for an once-over before reading properly.

The thin sheets slid out of her grasp in a fluttering rush of white paper, pouring to the ground like a gushing waterfall as she stared at the opposite wall in shock. The rich-gold wedding ring spun in lazy circles on the hardwood floor with small clinks before coming to a rest at her feet.

These were _divorce papers_.

-

_Oh, what are we doing?_

_We are turning into dust_

_Playing house in the ruins of us_

_Running back through the fire_

_When there's nothing left to say_

_It's like chasing the very last train_

_When it's too late, too late_

_Let me hold you for the last time_

_It's the last chance to feel again_

* * *

Oh no she did'nt! Jill AND Cole in two chapters?? *gasp of horror* Anyway, hope you got a little more insight to Chuck/Sarah?

Back to Sarah's hopeless seduction of Chuck Bartowski next chapter, as well as the Cole situation :)

Ah, I've reached a writer's block with their… reunion. Wouldn't it be easier if I just split them up again?

:P


	10. Tekau: Believe Me

I can't think of anything to clever to write this time :-O

What a shame.

I didn't realise this links all the way back to Chapter Six, if you wanted to re-read. The first part is after Bryce's party. The second is from Chapter Eight. This is kind of like a beginning vs. later chapter.

_Kelsey_- Metro Station (Last weeks obsession :D this week is Good Charlotte- _Dance Floor Anthem_ which Benji and Joel performed on Aussie Idol) Took an hour to choose from The Cure to ElemenoP to Air Supply to freaking Black Eyed Peas _Don't Phunk with my Heart_ lol

Disclaimer: I own mxpw and TwotoTenth; they're great cheap labour assets to have if you want a great beta

* * *

-

CHAPTER TEN

Believe Me.

-

_So take one word you said  
You put it in your bed  
You rest your tiny head on your pillow  
You wonder where you're going next_

-

**Buy More, 2005**, _Burbank, California_

-

"Hi," Sarah Walker greeted with a little bit of trepidation as she gripped the edge of the counter. "Uh, is Chuck here?" she questioned as politely as she could in this… peculiar circumstance, "Chuck Bartowski", Sarah repeated, just in case. She made sure to stand at least three feet away from the Nerd Herder's strategic lean forward.

The balding man squinted, leering unpleasantly, and she felt herself recoil away in barely disguised disgust.

"Oh yeah," he slurred, his eagerness fortunately diminished by the trouble he seemed to have focusing his vision on her. "That's me."

Sarah put her hands on her hips, ignoring the less than helpful employee and scanned the store herself.

"Jeff!"

Sarah turned with a carefully constructed smile at the voice, but Chuck barreled by with a middle-aged man and his nine year old daughter hot on his heels.

"I need the wall," Chuck gasped breathlessly, lunging over the counter to grab something from a drawer. As Sarah eyed his openly displayed posterior, her smile widened slightly.

Speaking loudly to the man, still rummaging through the desk, Chuck looked highly distracted, splitting his attention between his customer and the elusive remote. "Don't worry sir, you'll have something to show your wife, and this time I'll remember to put the disk into the recorder for you."

Her curiously was piqued, but her ego was slightly dented by his complete unawareness of her presence. Still, she watched as Chuck took the girl's hand, leading her to an area in front of a huge wall of plasmas, and nodding to Anna who was setting up a video camera nearby.

Shrugging at the sudden emptiness of the desk, Sarah walked away from the counter and approached the crowd amassed in front of the impromptu performance. Chuck was crouched in front of the girl, inspecting her spotless pink tutu, the encouraging smile on his lips making his eyes glow.

"I'm not usually in the front row," the girl informed him matter-of-factly. "I'm too tall."

Chuck laughed quietly, and Sarah wondered if he was thinking about his own lofty stature which, she thought offhandedly, was much taller than Bryce's. She'd be able to stand next to Chuck in heels of her own choosing and still look perfectly matched.

_He's a mark_, she reminded herself idly, wondering if the feeling of Montgomery's eyes on her back was a hallucination or not. She glanced surreptitiously at the security cameras she'd scoped out when she entered the first time. The old bastard probably knew she'd be here today, after the mess three days ago at the party.

She had only decided to visit the Buy More after rolling out of bed this morning, her competitive nature unable to resist the challenge set up for her, especially with Chuck as the prize. Well, _he_ wasn't the prize, she reprimanded herself, Chuck _represented_ the prize- of completing her training.

Her attention was drawn to the scene again as the music started, and the little girl's face was plastered all over the multitude of screens as she danced with a large grin on her face and her frazzled father clapping nervously as if waiting for something else to go wrong.

Sarah couldn't help her overly plastic smile relaxing into a more genuine expression as she watched the girl, recalling her own childhood dancing lessons. Her mom had been such a graceful woman; Sarah had adored her when she had been the same age as this girl. She had been the one who'd encouraged her daughter to dance, for which Sarah was extremely grateful. There was just _something_ about the beat, the foot-tapping rhythm of a song that let her _express _herself in ways she wished she had the confidence to do day-to-day.

It had been the first arena in which she'd really felt graceful, the confidence and agility she'd gained from it became enormously helpful assets in her chosen profession.

Chuck looked up briefly in wonder at the crowd as the girl continued to dance amidst the clapping and cheering. Sarah started as he made eye contact with her, his expression surprised and adorably bashful.

He looked down again after sending her a small wave, determined to fix his customer's problem. Sarah found she couldn't keep her eyes off his awkward movements, his wavy hair, his beautiful smile that surfaced while talking to the father or giving the rest of the Nerd Herders instructions.

As the music wound to an end and Anna shut down the equipment and handed the tape to the man, Chuck made his way over to her with an easy smile.

"Hi," he said as he stopped in front of her, a questioning tone in his voice.

"Hey," she replied distantly, reaching instinctively to straighten his distractingly crooked tie.

Chuck leaned away from her in response. Puzzled, Sarah dropped the gray fabric and returned her hands to her sides.

"How's Bryce?" he asked, circling the counter to enter the Nerd Herd corner. The uncomfortable look on his face gave her the impression that he was intentionally increasing the distance between them.

"What?" she asked, staring at him blankly.

Chuck looked at her oddly before elaborating, "Bryce. You know… the guy you're dating?"

"Yeah," she replied, embarrassed enough to try to cover the blush creeping up her neck. "He's good."

In reality, she hadn't seen him since the party. Their only contact had been a brief phone call the previous evening.

He looked puzzled, and Sarah wondered if he'd even realized she had been trying to come on to him earlier when she had come in to 'get her phone fixed'. If not, it was a remarkable feat of obliviousness – even his bearded friend Morgan had been acutely aware of her flirting almost immediately.

"Ah, so what are you doing here?" he asked. Sarah froze as she realized she'd stupidly strolled into the store without a plan.

"Just –" she waved behind her vaguely, "I work at the Orange Orange opposite you."

He was about to speak, but she cut him off, "Just wanted to say hi."

"Oh," he teased, chuckling as he greeted her in return, "Hi."

Sarah continued, trying to regain her composure. "It's temporary. I'm working odd jobs while I apply for an apprenticeship at CIA."

Chuck blanched and focused his full attention on her. "CIA? The Central Intelligence Agency?"

_Smooth, Walker_, she thought reproachfully, _awesome way to blow your cover already_. She hoped her trainer had not been watching and listening to everything she had done today.

"No!" she replied, laughing nervously. Chuck's excited grin dimmed and Sarah found herself grasping futilely for words to bring it back. "Sorry to disappoint you," she continued quickly. "It's a graphic design company. You know, advertising, magazines, TV… and all that. CI, or Creative Imaging, America."

Chuck nodded in recognition. "Ah, I've heard of it. Good luck, I hear it's competitive."

_You have no idea. And I'm going to win this competition. _

-

_You got your head pushed to my chest  
and now you're hoping that someone let's you in  
Well I'll sure let you in  
You know I'll let you in  
Oh Kelsey, you._

-

**LA hospital, 2008,** _California_

-

_So don't let anyone scare you  
You know that I'll protect you  
Always,  
now through the thick and thin  
Until the end  
You better watch it  
You know you don't cross it because  
I'm always here for you  
and I'll be here for you  
I know how it feels believe me  
I've been there and  
I know what it feels like  
tell me Kelsey_

-

Chuck sat in the cafeteria, morosely staring into his cup of coffee.

He and Sarah still hadn't discussed what had happened when she'd woken up, and it had already been two days. It had been a consistent problem for them - Sarah always kept things hidden inside, refusing to let him in. And he had always been too careful of her feelings to press her for details, often resulting in uncomfortable silences when neither knew what to say except, _it's complicated_. Chuck hadn't exactly grown up around a wealth of shining examples, but he had always been led to believe a lack of communication wasn't a typical indicator of a healthy marriage.

Sarah had been extremely disoriented when she first woke. Her eyes flashing, she lashed out at him with frightening accurate fists as if he were an enemy before coming to her senses, finding him tripped on the floor in an attempt to avoid her left arm secured in a hard cast. She had been so confused that Chuck wondered whether she even knew she'd let that name out of her mouth.

Once she calmed down, her concern immediately shifted to whether Cole was all right. Quelling the immediate surge of jealousy, Chuck had simply admitted that he didn't know and waited relatively patiently for an explanation. In trying to get out of bed to look for answers, she'd spotted the bouquet on the side table and relaxed, and Cole had not been brought up since then. It was hard to pretend that her automatic assumption that the gift was from Cole didn't sting.

He sighed in frustration as he stood, pushing the small metal chair back into its proper position under the table with excessive force. Glancing apologetically at the other patrons, he quietly left the room, heading back upstairs to Sarah.

"Hey," she greeted, her eyes shining as she watched him step into the private room, sipping the remnants of his coffee before disposing of the styrofoam cup in the bin beside the door.

Chuck lingered by the door as he answered, "Hi".

Her hair shone a pale blond against her unusually pallid skin. "Why are you standing all the way over there?" she asked with a smile, beckoning him over weakly.

Chuck walked closer, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as he once again tried to keep his emotions under wraps for her sake.

"Come on," Sarah encouraged as she shifted, making space for him on the small bed, "get in."

_Maybe she really didn't know about the man in her room or her first word when she woke up,_ Chuck thought dubiously. _Why else would she act like there's nothing wrong between us?_

He slipped off his shoes and climbed awkwardly into the bed, trying to ignore the warmth of her hands on his arms as she helped him get comfortable.

Chuck lay back, sinking into the pillow and letting her wriggle her way under his arm and rest her chin on his chest with her own arms tucked loosely around him. When he held her tighter, he felt her muscles relax noticeably as she melted over him bonelessly and slowly closed her eyes.

"Chuck?"

He looked down toward the half of her head he could see with his chin and her proximity obscuring his vision. "Sarah?"

She let her hand run up his neck and behind his ear, her fingers curling themselves into his hair. His eyes fluttered close at her touch involuntarily. "Why have you been so quiet these last few days?" She hesitated, tracing her fingers over his eyebrows, down the ridge of his nose and around his lips. "Aren't you glad I'm back?"

Chuck tilted his head and kissed her palm. "Of course I am," he told her firmly. "I'm just a little shocked from everything that's happened."

Sarah sighed, "I'm sorry Chuck, it wasn't meant to happen."

"What happened exactly, Sarah?" he asked, absentmindedly massaging little circles into her side with his thumb. "All I got was a phone call from a stranger on a recently landed plane telling me that they found my phone number on your cell and that my wife was being loaded onto an ambulance at LAX!" He finished slightly out of breath, his voice having increased significantly in volume as he tried to convey the horror he'd felt when he had received the call.

"I got into an accident," she revealed, gesturing with her uninjured arm. "I got checked over in Prague, so I got on the plane thinking nothing was wrong."

Chuck shook his head. "You should have gotten more thoroughly checked out," he rebuked worriedly.

"I just wanted to get back," Sarah shrugged. "I don't even remember exactly what happened."

"So what happened that you _do_ remember?" he asked, seeing a flash of some odd emotion skate across her visage before she answered.

"Car crash," Sarah replied smoothly. "There was a car chase on the highway, and my taxi got hit pretty violently. I hit my head and got knocked out. I don't know how my arm broke, but afterwards, they told me I had severe bruising across my midsection from a hard jerk against the seatbelt, but no internal bleeding or organ damage."

Chuck absorbed the information without comment, and was ashamed to catch himself probing for inconsistencies in her story. There was no reason to distrust her, but Sarah's openness prompted him to ask, "What about that guy?"

Sarah propped herself up with an elbow on his chest and met his eyes with a piercing stare that would have caused any other man to back down. Chuck recoiled slightly, but didn't withdraw the question.

"Who?" she asked, carefully keeping her intense gaze focused on his eyes.

"That man," Chuck repeated reluctantly, dreading the possibility that he'd always feared- that another man who deserved her more had won her affection. Even now that they were married, Chuck always had wondered why she'd chosen him. He was nothing special, not particularly handsome or rich, or sophisticated. "He left your room just before I came to see you," he added casually.

Sarah frowned, looking plainly perplexed, "I don't know who you're talking about–"

"Is his name Cole?" he asked tiredly. "Is he the one you were asking about when you first came to, and the same one I saw?"

He felt her breath hitch against him, and a spark of understanding sprang into her eyes. "You saw him?" she asked in a tone that Chuck found disorientingly accusatory for a married woman who had a mysterious male visitor.

"Just a brief glimpse," he recounted simply, trying to hold back the flood of resentment in hopes that Sarah would offer him a reasonable explanation.

Sarah relaxed a tiny amount. "He's my partner. Cole is a CI employee who came to Prague with me for the Designers convention. I wanted to be there if you ever saw him, just to make sure you didn't assume anything. He was in the car with me, but he escaped relatively unharmed. When I woke up here, I must have been reliving the aftermath of crash."

Chuck wondered idly if all CI personnel were all beautiful and athletically built. Not for the first time, he wished that his wife's coworkers could be less attractive, or that he could somehow compete with their looks. "He looks more like James Bond than a designer," he muttered doubtfully.

His wife smiled in mock exasperation. "Chuck, you've been watching too many movies since I've been away."

"I wouldn't be, if you had been around."

Both of them caught their breath, Chuck looking wide-eyed as if he couldn't believe that had slipped from his mouth. "I'm sorry," he mumbled before she could speak. "That wasn't supposed to come out."

Sarah sighed, running her hand through her hair. "Well, you must have been thinking about it. Comments like that don't come out of nowhere." Chuck looked down, and she continued, trying to steady her voice, "Is that what you really think?" she asked. "You were the one who persuaded me to take the international job."

"I didn't know you'd be gone quite this long, especially on your first assignment," Chuck said honestly. "I just- I'm not sure it's such a good thing after all. I really missed you."

Sarah closed her eyes, "It's not easy to get out of this contract, Chuck," she told him, "There was a lot of paperwork involved. I promised a lot of people a lot of things. I thought you understood that this job would sacrifice a lot of our time."

"I don't know," Chuck mumbled, "We're just… we're never together. If you're not gone, then I'm on those tours to test Pineapple's newest military systems component. When we were dating, and you were only on those domestic trips, it wasn't so bad."

"So how are your absences rationalized against mine?" Sarah asked sharply.

Chuck looked away. "It's just… it's not the same," he said, wincing inwardly at the lame excuse. "I serve my country when I'm away."

Looking like she were holding back ironic laughter, Sarah's face twisted into a darkly amused sneer, leaving her husband thoroughly confused. "And I don't."

As he realized the argument was a losing battle, Chuck sighed in defeat. "I'm not gone as long as you are," he tried.

"Look, Chuck," Sarah said, finally calming from her highly defensive attitude. "You do what you love, I do what I love. I've got no problem with you as a soldier, except that you worry me out of my mind when you're away." She touched his face, feeling a little guilty after arguing with him savagely when it was plain that he was just worried about them. His comparison of his career over hers left a bad taste in her mouth, but peering more intently at him, she realised there was another reason, "Chuck, what's this really about?"

He looked vaguely surprised at her easy read of his emotions. "It's not important," he said, a bit of rebellion creeping into his voice after the lost debate.

"Tell me," Sarah coaxed as she lifted her face above his, her hair falling gently like sunlight around their faces, building a golden wall between them and the world. "What's wrong?"

Chuck's emotions had settled again, the draining fervor from their disagreement falling away as quickly as it had risen when she penetrated his defenses and found his real fears. He smiled half-heartedly. "Nothing, I just wish I was there with you."

Sarah's face smoothed into a gentle smile at his words, "Chuck, it's not your fault I got hurt," she said, once again reading his underlying meaning effortlessly. "No one could have predicted the… crash would happen."

"I just want to be close to you just in case you need me, that's all," Chuck said. "I can't do that if you're in another country."

Sarah's eyes were drawn to the adorably anxious curve of his furrowed brow. The extent of his obvious concern for her made her heart leap. She tangled her hands in his hair intimately, leaning down to brush an appreciative kiss against his lips. The brief contact brought a tingle to her lips before she caught him again a split second later in another exchange, pressing her lips deeper onto his. Her mouth opened as she felt him respond eagerly, unable to keep herself from tasting him after the first overwhelming spark of addictive joy brought by the sensation of his skin against hers.

Half-laughing and giddy from their unhurried succession of searing kisses, Sarah kept her hands in his hair as she gasped for breath. Her lips vibrated lightly against his as he drew in a few deep breaths. She could feel his heart pounding against her breast as she lay atop him, and her delight at the proof of his ardor threatened to drown her as her chest expanded with bubbling warmth.

"You just want to be there to keep an eye on Cole, don't you?" Sarah teased him light-heartedly, still trying to control the fluctuations in her heartbeat brought on by his loving gaze. She hated letting him down, hated getting into fights with him. She'd prefer to just ignore their problems until they both forgot about them.

Pretending to be affronted, Chuck was about to defend himself, but she kissed him before he could retort. He tried to evade her question as she let him go after being satisfied by another steamy kiss but there was no hiding the blush on his cheeks. Trying to save him from his rambling, she cut him off, rolling her eyes affectionately, but could not help feeling pleased with his protectiveness.

"It's cute," she laughed, unable to stop smiling. "Chuck," Sarah continued seriously, her voice stumbling over the next words as she always did, a vulnerable sheen in her eyes. "I love you. So… trust me."

Chuck beamed back at her, appreciating her difficulty in conveying her emotions through words. "I do," he assured her. To keep the tone light, he added a grumble, "I just don't trust that Cole guy," drawing a chuckle from his wife. "I just want to protect you, Sarah," he admitted earnestly. "After all," he added with a smirk, "I'm the hunk who's in the army."

Sarah had a secret little smile on her lips as she settled back against him again, holding back a scoff and nodding in mock thankfulness. "Of course you are, Chuck."

-

_Now it's gonna get harder  
and it's gonna burn brighter  
and it's gonna feel tougher each and every day  
so let me say, that I love you  
you're all I've ever wanted  
all I've ever dreamed of to come  
and yes you did come  
I want you so bad can you feel it too?  
you know I'm so, I'm so in love with you  
I want you, so much  
I need you, so much  
I need your, I need your, your touch and I'll swim the ocean for you  
the ocean for you  
whoa, oh Kelsey  
and you never ever let me in_

_and you never ever let me in_

* * *

Oh wow, just realised the last paragraph of the song is perfect on my last read through before posting :)

Oh hey, read up on new chapters of the WHO ARE YOU Challenge where six new different author's works are exhibited. Can you guess who?

And go to my poll, the question is: _Which fanfiction should FL finish?_

It's obvious we're firmly sloughing through this fic, so I'd like to congratulate those who have made it this far without injuring, flaming, kicking, stabbing or any kind of extreme negative activity in response to these updates :) Well done.

By the way, all you lurkers? Yeah, you. Would you please stop being creepy and review at least for this chapter so I know you're floating out there somewhere next time I post?


	11. Tekau ma tahi: Medias res

Been a while, hasn't it? Well here's the next chapter. Still haven't worked out the timeline for you guys. People think Chuck/Sarah split apart in one year, but it was two. Early 2008, and very late 2009.

Not sure if everything in this chapter is wholly believable, but I'll let you judge that for yourself :)

I'd just like to say: "HA TOLD YOU!!" That Chuck and Sarah would be fine. Was the weeping and depression really necessary? :P

**Brief summary:** Chuck and Sarah are on the outs, Sarah leaves for what Chuck thinks to be Berlin, Chuck gets his own assignment while Sarah is away to go to Iraq with his new technology for weapons systems but is unable to get word to Sarah about his departure. Ellie has received the divorce papers Sarah sent to Chuck under direction of the CIA, and Sarah herself is en route to Iraq with Cole.

_Won't Go Home Without You_ –Maroon Five

Disclaimer: Not mine. All this work belongs to the bet-ing genius of mxpw and TwotoTenth

* * *

-

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Medias res.

-

_I asked her to stay but she wouldn't listen  
She left before I had the chance to say  
Oh  
The words that would mend the things that were broken  
But now it's far too late, she's gone away_

_Every night you cry yourself to sleep  
Thinking: "Why does this happen to me?  
Why does every moment have to be so hard?"  
Hard to believe that_

-

**Ft Bragg, 2009**, _USA_

_-_

Chuck knew there was something wrong the instant his sister's cautious voice came over the speaker of his iPhone.

"Ellie!" He almost had to yell into the speakers, hearing her upset state over the phone. Her tone was borderline hysterical, and Chuck was momentarily tempted to steal a car and drive all the way back to LA to see what was wrong.

"Ellie," Chuck repeated insistently. He held the phone tightly against his ear, trying in vain to understand her muttering. "What's going on?"

There was a long silence.

"Hello?" he said, sticking a finger into his other ear as a jet took off over his head, the rumble of it's engines sending little vibrations through his feet all the way up his body.

"Sarah sent you something," Ellie said abruptly.

Chuck was so excited he almost dropped the phone. "What? What is it!"

"Chuck- they were di-"

The large cargo plane that flew overhead drowned out her words, and Chuck shouted to make himself heard as he asked her to repeat herself.

Ellie spoke again, but her voice was less confident. "Chuck—I think we should leave this until you get back," she said. And quickly, she added, "I shouldn't have called."

Heart hammering, he gripped the phone tighter, pressing the screen against his cheek. "Ellie, don't hang up!" He said, "Why won't you tell me?"

A cold feeling descended on his chest. His sister's tone wasn't positive, and it took a lot for Ellie to be so unenthusiastic about family. But then again, these past two years, she had become increasingly unsupportive grown less and less supportive of his relationship with Sarah.

"El," he said again, swallowing. "Tell me."

Ellie sighed. "Chuck –"

"Say it," he nearly demanded, anger beginning to colour the desperation in his voice as he paced restlessly. "Say what you're not saying."

He'd never heard her voice as quiet as it was now, "Chuck. She—she sent you something for your anniversary."

Chuck sagged against the wall, his limbs sapped of energy, and he mouthed a 'Thank god' to the heavens before lifting the phone to his ear again. "Oh, is that all?" He grinned. "I thought you were going to give me bad news!"

Ellie's chuckle was shaky. "Yeah, Chuck I've got to get to work. But… just, Chuck keep in mind that it could always be something you won't like."

"Okay," he said. Chuck couldn't help brightening at her news of a rare present from Sarah. "I'll open the present when I get back, no point spoiling the surprise. And El- we're leaving for Iraq in a few hours, so I just wanna say I love you, and take care of yourself and my niece."

He could see Jill from the corner of his eye, backpack slung casually over her shoulder as she waited for him somewhat impatiently, and he sent her a smile and a just-a-minute gesture.

Ellie paused briefly to let out a noncommittal noise, but her voice was warm when she finally replied, "Love you always Chuck. When you come back, we need to sit down and talk. Without Sarah."

Chuck frowned at her last comment. He'd heard all the lectures she could make up already. Heaving a deep sigh, he responded wearily, "Sure, sis. Buh bye."

-

_It's not over tonight  
Just give me one more chance to make it right  
I may not make it through the night  
I won't go home without you_

_The taste of your breath, I'll never get over  
The noises that she made kept me awake  
Oh  
The weight of things that remained unspoken  
Built up so much it crushed us everyday_

-

**Safe house, Iraq desert, 2009,** _Iraq_

-

Kneeling next to her pack, Sarah dug out the tightly-rolled clothes and items jammed between, arranging them on the floor in meticulous rows in preparation for their mission outfit tomorrow. The CIA costume designers had outdone themselves this time. She brushed a few strands of black-dyed hair out of her eyes and then stared at her olive-stained hands- still not used to the colour- before extracting the worn dress that would soon cover her dark skin.

She was not expecting to uncover her head, as all women of Middle Eastern descent wore veils around the men. But even so, the make-up artists had gone to every effort to disguise her Slavic bone structure with an assortment of the large arsenal of prosthetics and tools they'd had at their disposal.

_So far, so good,_ Sarah thought.

Cole was out surveying the area, setting up proximity alerts. Their hut was a long-deserted old shed that was far away but also close enough to remain inconspicuous as part of the city. The shoddy plastered exterior was chipping and cracking, the only window was merely a hole in the wall that faced forwards; the other two sides of the house were hidden by tall growing weeds and to their back was a sand dune.

They had made sure the hut could be undisturbed enough that any future visitors would never know they'd been here before they'd entered. It was perfect for an overnight stay, deserted enough that tracks would be smoothed over by desert winds before they could be discovered.

The moldy mattress sank beneath her as she sat back onto it. Light was still non-existent, but she didn't dare to light the oil lamp that sat on a small shelf on the other side of the room.

Glancing towards the door, Sarah finally returned her attentions to her pack, reaching until her fingers scraped the bottom. The brown package she sought was hidden in a deep pocket, bundled with string, and carefully wrapped and re-wrapped.

She drew it out, along with the associated mixture of emotions.

As she sliced the string, the thick paper of the outermost layer fell apart to reveal the original bundle.

Fingers shaking, she peeled away the bubble wrap and the newspaper cushioning, to reveal a blue-wrapped present, a silver gossamer ribbon tied delicately around it, a tiny card wedged tightly underneath the crisscross of the bow.

Chuck's practical, neat handwriting spelled out her name on the small square in black ink; it was jarring to see something so familiar in a land so foreign.

She stared at the box for a long moment, enduring the struggle between guilt over the current state of her marriage and curiosity about the box's contents. Giving in to her inquisitive side, she carefully undid the tape holding the paper together and found herself holding a lilac, rectangular box.

She curled her fingers around the lip of the cover and lifted slowly. A delicate necklace soon came into view, accompanied by what had to be an imagined whiff of the scent of home.

Hesitantly, she reached in to feel the slender silver chain. Her index traced the links until it reached the three-dimensional heart that was barely bigger than her thumbnail, sitting small and curved and precious nestled in thin purple Tiffany-embossed decorative paper.

Not daring to mar the gleaming surface, Sarah let her finger hover over the delicate pattern that was cut through the walls, little spaces and holes letting her see straight through the ornament to the purple bottom of the box. There was a very small catch on the side, and she gently depressed it, half the heart swinging forward to display the tiny folded note inside the hollow cavity.

Unable to control her hand's quiver, it took Sarah half a minute to unfold the paper with the tips of her fingers.

_I miss you._

Knowing Chuck as she did, Sarah was easily able to understand both the note and the significance of the hollow heart.

She held the necklace tightly in one hand, wondering if he had received her own package in the mail yet.

A prickle of guilt festered in her heart at the thought of her 'gift' to him, in exchange of the care he'd put into hers. As she always had over the years, Sarah forced herself to use her spy training to shrug it off. It had become easier over the years to become immune to Chuck.

Both those few years, and their differences had forced them apart. Even though they worked and moved like a married couple, they hadn't been honest with each other in far too long. All the unresolved arguments about how their jobs and ambitions could fit together with the possibility of kids in the future, sat like a giant ball of suffocating cotton shoved down the collective throat of their marriage. All the time they spent apart left almost no common ground or shared experiences. It felt like they were going different, and opposite directions.

Sarah had been an ideal candidate for the CIA's top crop of espionage agents. She had been training for it ever since Arthur Graham had recruited her from high school, and had been top of her academy class during college. She had continued that streak, breaking previous records held for knife and combat fighting, all through her yearlong apprenticeship. She had never been trained for anything else than being a spy- that included sealing off her emotions. It became a second nature. And Chuck- he was the most expressive, most giving man she'd ever met.

Closing her eyes briefly at that thought, she could see every word Chuck had written, imprinted on her mind.

Striking a match, she used her body to shield the tiny flickering flame from any potential outside notice. Holding the letter and watching it burn, she let go only when the flames threatened to engulf her fingers.

No evidence.

No one except those they couldn't do anything about would notice her absence if this mission came to an untimely end. The war was at its fiercest, and her country needed more of her. More than all she'd given already. More than she had been prepared to pay.

More than she had left.

-

_Every night you cry yourself to sleep  
Thinking: "Why does this happen to me?  
Why does every moment have to be so hard?"  
Hard to believe that_

_It's not over tonight  
Just give me one more chance to make it right  
I may not make it through the night  
I won't go home without you_

-

**American Green-zone, 2009,** _Iraq _

-

Chuck stood just outside the barracks, newly shipped in from America. Taking a deep breath, he gathered his courage. He was only doing his duty. He'd stay focused, he'd pray for his life, and he'd go home to Sarah. The phone call with Ellie yesterday seemed miles away already, and he couldn't help his spirits dampening at the thought of no communication with her for the next few weeks.

His letter to her was entrusted to Ellie, who would explain his departure to Sarah if she came back before he did. If she came back.

Eddies of dust swirled around his tan boots as they made their acquaintance with fibers of his uniform, entrapping themselves in the fabric. He pulled the headscarf tighter around his neck, making sure to cover his ears and mouth, and doing his best to quiet the protesting of his lungs at every particle that forced its way into his windpipe.

The sun was already beating down onto his reddened neck, glimmering ethereally in and out of focus in the completely blue sky, scorching and dry as it looked out over the war torn land.

"Stay safe," the woman behind him said seriously, putting a hand on his arm.

Chuck tried to smile at her, but realized his mouth was covered with material. "You too, Jill," he said, voice muffled. "I'll see you later after I report in and find my assigned sleeping area."

She nodded. "Bryce and Casey are probably waiting for you. They got here a little before we did. I have to go and present myself to the head medic."

With a firm nod, Chuck drew her into a tight embrace. "If I don't see you for a while, Jill, take care."

"You too," Jill said. Her step hitched as she turned, and with a torn expression, she grabbed his head, elevating herself onto her tippy-toes. Chuck almost flinched away as she came closer, but she merely laid a kiss onto his forehead, walking away with a parting wave.

He waved back, heart full of affection for his former girlfriend. Of course, the chemistry that drew them together hadn't diminished one bit over the course of these years, and given her presence in the camp, it was impossible to completely avoid contact with her. They had settled on being friends a long time ago; his heart had been too bruised- he couldn't bear to be anything more than passing acquaintances with her. Although Chuck had forgiven her, betrayals of that magnitude were hard to forget. Back then, he had felt a rush of satisfaction that Bryce and Jill had only lasted a month as lovers before separating; after that, he'd often wondered whether she had thought it had been still worth dumping Chuck for his best friend.

But despite the karma that had been served to Jill and Bryce, Chuck had still sunken into the two year funk after Jill had moved on to graduate studies and Bryce had joined the army as he had.

At the beginning of his relationship with Sarah, he had made sure to assure her that his relationship with Jill was over, but the blonde had still been less than happy when she found out he would be in constant contact with the brunette woman on his trips overseas, despite Chuck's attempts to convince her that he and Jill were merely platonic.

Chuck smiled to himself at the nostalgia that filled him, brought on by the fact that all three of them were now together, something that hadn't happened since he'd last confronted Jill about her infidelity. He shook his head as he imagined what Casey would say if he knew he had been dwelling on his 'lady feelings' again.

_Speak of the devil_, Chuck thought, grinning as he neared the tent where Casey stood statue-like, as if he had been waiting for his arrival.

"Bartowski," Casey grunted as soon as Chuck was within earshot.

"Hey Casey," Chuck said, gripping the other man's hand in greeting, shaking it out a little after with Casey's firm grip. "Where's Bryce?"

A head poked out of the flaps. "Here."

Ducking under the metal poles, he followed Bryce's voice into the canvas tent that had been propped over a shallow dugout, looking around before throwing his duffle onto the only unclaimed fold out camp-bed. Feeling less than enthused at his tiny personal space for the next few weeks, he straightened to his full height to stretch his back muscles- promptly grazing his head on the top of the tent.

"Well gentlemen," Bryce declared when Casey followed Chuck in, his bright blue eyes glittering in his excitement for forthcoming adventure. He clapped Chuck on the back, "Welcome back to Team Bartowski."

-

_Of all the things I felt but never really shown  
Perhaps the worst is that I ever let you go  
I should not ever let you go, oh oh oh_

_It's not over tonight  
Just give me one more chance to make it right  
I may not make it through the night  
I won't go home without you_

-

**Insurgent camp, 2009**, _unknown location, Iraq_

-

Sarah could feel all the beetle-black eyes staring at her and Cole as they stood in the midst of the crowd of makeshift soldiers.

Their expressions were inscrutable, covered in checkered bandanas and turbans. Sarah felt oddly exposed despite her overly modest robes. Her head was covered, and she dipped it a little further down in a show of submissiveness to avoid further scrutiny.

Her nerves were screaming, and she stayed in a defensive posture as she discretely eyed the AK-47s, the rifles, and the other various improvised weaponry clasped in the gritty, weathered hands of amateurs who had become soldiers by necessity.

Keeping her hand still, she readjusted her grip around the small knife that was the only weapon her cover had allowed her to carry.

Cole's Arabic was perfectly accented, turning his normally suave voice deep and harsh. From her position a few meters behind Cole, with her head humbly bowed, his voice seemed to reverberate powerfully against the walls. Sarah could tell that his presence and his imposing build earned him grudging admiration and respect from the other men. Hidden behind the heavy veil that covered her face, Sarah did her best to follow the conversation while remaining as unobtrusive as the other women who stood behind the translucent fabric that divided the room.

Sarah's eyes darted around, registering the guarded exits and escape routes unobtrusively as possible. Time constraints had forced them to take the risk of undertaking the mission without having learned the camp's layout in advance, so they were currently operating without a fully-formed extraction plan.

Their apparently unwitting entrance into the crossfire between the Americans and the insurgents had been perfectly timed, allowing them to seem so much like harmless natives that the insurgents had delayed their escape from a failed ambush to pick them up.

A large man had stepped forward and beaten Cole to the ground while Sarah willed herself not to move a muscle. Cole hadn't put up a fight, instead submitting while covertly shielding his vital organs from the attack.

With a grunt that had reminded Sarah of Chuck's military friend Casey, who had occasionally been invited over for Bartowski dinners, the man stepped back after a few minutes, letting Cole drag himself to his feet.

They must have been desperate for more fighters, as the beating had quickly given way to Cole's induction into the cause after a brief recitation of the Koran and a perfunctory loyalty oath.

To keep their place within this society, she and Cole would have to be very careful. They would be closely monitored over the first few weeks, and if caught, they would be tortured and executed. But as long as they kept their cover secure over the course of the first stages of the mission, merging quietly with the goings-on and following any orders, they'd be as safe as it was possible to be in a situation such as this.

Shivering slightly, Sarah instinctively pulled her sleeves lower in a subconscious attempt to hide any trace that may lead them to discover their true nationalities.

"Tell your wife to join the women," the man ordered, and Cole nodded at her. His eyes were carefully guarded, but she could read her partner well enough to see the determination in his gaze.

She turned silently towards the parting curtains, finding slender hands welcoming her into the sanctuary.

-

_  
It's not over tonight  
Just give me one more chance to make it right  
I may not make it through the night  
I won't go home without you  
And I won't go home without you  
And I won't go home without you  
And I won't go home without you_

_-

* * *

_

So... Sarah thinks Chuck got the divorce papers. Chuck doesn't know about the divorce papers. The powers that be thinks he got the papers, so he's all suicidal... how does this all come together?

With one more chapter, it doesn't mean I'm back into writing, I've still got a kind of mind block. It just so happened that I'd written several chapters beforehand so I can still update occasionally. I got a bit down on the reviews and the general tone of the fandom originally, so thanks to the naggers that kept up their stream of 'encouragement' :)

To the people who are rather demanding and nasty, and don't have the balls to sign in using anything other than 'anonymous' or if you happen to have an account without a bio or your own writing, I betcha wouldn't face me in real life. So go back to mum's basement.

And hi to the lurkers who surfaced to review last chapter!


	12. Tekau ma rua: Delirious

Hey strangers!

Thanks to the great TwotoTenth for suffering "confusion and distress" beta-ing my kiwi jargon, and of course, to super mxpw who takes time out of his busy beta-ing schedule to do the first edit of poor little FL's problem-ridden work. And hi to my AWOL beta, Mystlynx, who apparently has vanished off the face of the earth.

And of course, to the people who are still hanging on to this ultra confusing plot my twisted mind has come up with.

_My Delirium_- Ladyhawke (Homegrown NZ artist!)

Disclaimer: SEASON FOUR! Celebration!

* * *

CHAPTER TWELVE

Delirious.

.

_Hey! You're playing with my delirium_  
_ And the longer I wait the harder I'm gonna fall_  
_ Stop! playing with my delirium_  
_ Coz I'm outa my head and outta my self control_

.

**Surfers Paradise, Gold Coast, 2006**, _Brisbane, Australia_

_.  
_

Chuck laid his head back onto his beach towel with a contented sigh, feeling the sand shift under his body to cradle his weight in its sun-warmed heat. The sun had shone all five days they had been here so far, and all he could see through his tinted sunglasses was clear blue sky.

The muted sounds of distant traffic were nearly inaudible thanks to the soothing crash of the waves some dozen yards away. The apartment Ellie had rented was right by the waterfront, providing fantastic views of the whole stretch of beach from the veranda.

It was a three-bedroom suite – Ellie and Devon in one, Bryce and Sarah in another, and Chuck in the third. It had cost Chuck a large chunk of his yearly income, but this trip was a well-earned reward. He had finally started building the company he'd always dreamt of having after Stanford, with Bryce helping him with the financial aspects thanks to his accounting expertise.

Chuck reveled in the feeling of sand sticking to his wet feet. It made him feel alive; made him glad he was Chuck Bartowski, brother of Ellie Bartowski and best friend to Bryce Larkin and Morgan Grimes.

He could feel his skin begin to tingle, not with anticipation, but rather with the beginnings of the new sunburns that would cover his already tanned skin after this afternoon's foray under the sun.

But so far away from L.A., breathing in the clean air and the holiday atmosphere with his family and friends; there was nothing more Chuck felt that he could have asked from his life.

"Hey."

Chuck momentarily lifted his sunglasses from his eyes and winced at the scorching of the sun. Tilting his head in the direction of his new company, he watched her wring the contents of her soaked hair out on his sweat-slicked chest completely on purpose before settling beside him on the sand.

"Hey, Sarah," he said with a lazy smile.

Her sun-darkened skin glistened with water droplets that ran enticingly across her stomach and onto the sand. Taking advantage of Chuck's misdirected attention, she stole his chilled beer and downed half of it in one gulp.

"Why won't you come into the water?" she asked casually.

Chuck rolled his eyes. "I just don't want to go," he said, ignoring her pointed stares at his reddened skin. He looked out at Ellie and Devon, the closeness of their embrace obvious despite their shoulder-deep immersion in the ocean, and Bryce, balanced perfectly on a surfboard way out from the coast, face blurred by the distance.

"Do you need me to put some sunblock on you then?" Sarah questioned. There was genuine concern in her voice as she picked up the bottle.

Chuck snatched the protective lotion away from her, "I'll be fine." As if to prove his point, he squeezed out a fat dollop of the thick white paste and slapped it on himself while Sarah watched critically.

"You can't do your shoulders, can you?" she asked in amusement as she slid her own aviators on.

She rose gracefully to her feet, walking behind him and sliding her hands under his. "Here," she said as she smoothed her hands over his skin gently before commandeering the bottle from his grasp.

Her hands were cool on his skin, raising goosebumps on his arms and the hairs on his neck. As soon as she finished, Chuck twisted out of her grasp, stretching exuberantly to cover his awkwardness.

"Thanks, Sarah," he said, trying not to notice her surprised look. He didn't want to give Bryce the impression that he was making a move on his girl. Sarah was a very beautiful woman, but Bryce was thoroughly infatuated with her, and even though his former nemesis had betrayed him by having an affair with Jill behind his back, Chuck had no interest in repaying the favor. The youthful stupidity of those days had been put behind them. Chuck had even renewed friendly contact with Jill, although it hadn't progressed beyond that point despite the brunette's evident interest.

He and Sarah were just very good friends. After several weeks of her acquaintance, they had really hit it off, and although Chuck couldn't deny a growing attraction to her, he had himself firmly under control.

"Why are you so afraid of the water?" Sarah asked, bringing his attention back to the present.

Chuck frowned at her. "I'm not afraid."

She didn't look like she believed him one bit. "Okay," she said simply. Chuck didn't have any time to blow out a relieved breath before she snagged his hand and pulled him firmly to his feet.

"Prove it," she demanded with cheekily as her long, lithe legs skipped easily over the sand. She kept her eyes focused on his, maneuvering them around the numerous scattered plastic toys and small children without looking over her shoulder, making Chuck wonder whether she had eyes in the back of her head.

He was awestruck for a moment as he gazed at her. Sarah's hair fluttered a bit in the gentle sea wind, and her face radiated happiness as she backed into the water, still towing him forward.

With a confident smile fixed onto his lips, he followed her without hesitation, his eyes dropping to watch the water lapping at his ankles, then his knees, then his thighs.

"Chuck?"

He looked up, trying to control the wide-eyed look he felt on his face as he felt water licking past his waist, the sand sifting beneath his toes. Chuck could feel the current pulling at his feet, trying to unbalance him; he clutched Sarah's hands tighter, and the smile on his lips tightened, revealing his increasing tension.

Sarah was momentarily distracted, and Chuck turned his head slowly to see Ellie shouting at them, or rather, at Sarah. The concern etched on his sister's face was obvious as she gesticulated emphatically in their direction, shouting something they were unable to make out over the general cacophony surrounding them. Devon drew Ellie's attention away, but Chuck wished she would come over to save him.

He took in a shaky breath, his eyes wide, his attention diverted towards the garangutan waves crashing offshore with backbreaking force, the roiling water churning up the sand underneath.

Sarah turned back to him, a reassuring smile on her lips. She took one hand and turned his face with her fingers so he was staring back at her.

"See?" she prompted gently. "It wasn't that hard."

Chuck gritted his teeth. "I had a bad experience with water as a kid while learning how to swim."

Turning his back with the intent to head back toward firm, dry ground, Chuck froze when he felt a pair of strong hands on his shoulders. In a swift, powerful movement, he was pulled backwards into the water. He flailed about in the split second before the wildly tilting world was hidden by the ocean's surface, panic making his heart beat double time as a high-pitched scream tore from his throat.

The salty water filled his mouth, cutting off his voice and causing him to choke. He couldn't touch the ground any more. Almost swallowing the water in his desperation to surface, he kicked out with his feet, contacting a leg. He could see bubbles surrounding him as the other person fell in after him.

Chuck hated the floating sensation, unable to control his direction. He looked wildly about.

A pair of hands grabbed his waist, and he immediately latched on. He was hauled roughly to his feet, his head breaking the surface of the water, but he couldn't regain his footing.

"It's okay!" He heard Sarah's voice call over his splashing, "I got you."

His panic submerged Sarah once again. When she resurfaced, flipping her hair out of her eyes, she tried calming him down so that he couldn't drown the both of them.

Somehow they managed to half-drag, half-waddle their way back into the shallows and collapsed together, tangled in a heap. Sarah was laughing, and he couldn't help the bubbling in his chest spilling out. Their laughter was mutually infectious, only managing to make the other laugh harder. He hadn't seen Sarah quite this happy in all her time with the family until now.

Chuck rubbed the water from his eyes, only then realizing his arms were tightly entwined around her waist, his head pressed against her stomach, still curled in a protective ball. His lungs were heaving for air, both because of his impromptu submerging and his laughter.

Somehow they had managed to drift twenty yards away from where they had started, and Chuck was about to mention that to Sarah as he looked up, his eyes meeting her bright but oddly intense stare that was already fixed on him.

Unable to disentangle himself, he simply stared back, feeling her fingers smooth the dripping locks of wavy hair off his forehead.

Chuck's breath hitched as he felt her leg slip in between his. She flipped them over so that she lay atop him and slid down his wet skin to bring them face to face.

It was only now that Chuck noticed the way her bikini straps seemed a little too fragile to hold the scant fabric in place. He gulped.

Feeling his lungs freeze as though he was still submerged in water, Chuck held his breath as her face hovered very close to his, his eyes fixed on the sweet curve of her lips.

He brushed the sand off her cheek before meeting her gaze again, her eyes mesmerizing as they flicked in between each of his eyes, as if she were looking for something.

Chuck could feel her chest rising heavily against his, the skin of her back so smooth under his fingers.

"I-" he said loudly, detaching his gaze suddenly as he scrambled away from her, missing the disappointed look on her face.

"What was I thinking?" he demanded of himself quietly, berating himself for putting his friend in such an uncomfortable position. Chuck held out his hand for her and lifted her to her feet. "I'm sorry," Chuck said, "I guess I got carried away."

Sarah's eyes had not lost the soft look when she watched him move around agitatedly, trying not to look at her.

"I'm sure I could have suffered through it," she said under her breath.

Chuck's attention was focused towards his sister, but after Sarah passed him, making her way back to their spot, he watched her with conflicted eyes, "Me too."

.

_Still here in this quiet room_  
_ Deep in delusion sending me over_  
_ Outside watch the world go by_  
_ Inside time stands still as I wonder_

.

**Beachfront apartment, sixteenth floor, 2006**, _Gold Coast, Brisbane_

_.  
_

The balcony doors were flung wide open, the night breeze wafting languidly through the large apartment as the group clustered around the small dinner table.

"Really, Ellie," Bryce said even as he greedily took a large mouthful of his steak, "it's a vacation; we would have done just as well with take-out."

When she shot him a look, he added quickly, "Even though your cooking is _exponentially_ better."

Ellie beamed at him, taking a sip of her red wine. "I wanted a proper couple's dinner," she commented lightly, leaning a little further into Devon.

Sarah immediately glanced in Chuck's direction. His fork was frozen on the way to his mouth, but when Ellie turned to him, horrified, it continued past his teeth and he chewed, carefully nonchalant.

"I'm so sorry, Chuck!" his sister gasped, one hand covering her mouth. "I didn't mean it like that…"

Chuck smiled weakly, cheeks bulging with food. Swallowing difficultly, he busied himself with cutting the next piece of meat, avoiding her gaze. "It's alright, Ellie. I don't mind being alone."

Sarah almost reached over to take his hand, but Bryce snaked his arm around her as he pulled her into him. "But then you don't get to do this," he said smugly as he kissed her abruptly, forcefully.

After a moment, she pushed him away, a disgusted look on her face as she took a large mouthful of wine, swirling it around her mouth to rid it of the beefy saliva taste. It always turned her off when men overextended their protectiveness, being possessive of her independence. In this case, her irritation was exacerbated by Bryce's insensitivity to Chuck, and she looked up at him apologetically.

Chuck already had an appalled look on his face, and it made her chuckle a little. When he met her eyes, his lips quirked into a small smile as she rolled her eyes, an unspoken message passing between them rapidly as both of them grinned at each other, not sure why exactly they were laughing.

"Private joke?" Devon commented, and Chuck looked at him, not expecting the captain to have been observing the scene quietly. "Awesome."

Bryce was watching her, and she met his gaze. "Bryce?"

After another penetrating look, he shrugged. "It's nothing," he said, then added a smile to prove it.

Ellie had gone into the kitchen to fetch their dessert, and now she placed it in the center as her fiancé cleared the table. Chuck went to fetch their forks.

"I haven't seen you all day," Bryce commented quietly so only Sarah could hear his voice as he continued playing with her hair.

Sarah responded, "That's because you've spent the whole day honing your surfing skills."

"Are you mad?" Bryce asked in confusion. "I asked you if you wanted to come, and you said no."

She was about to answer when her phone rang on the coffee table in the open plan living room. "Excuse me," she said, purposely avoiding his eyes, "I gotta take this call."

Relieved to escape the awkward conversation, she snatched up the phone and retreated to the balcony before accepting the call.

"Walker, secure," she said coolly, modulating her voice as she watched the Bartowski family and Bryce crowd around the table in the dining room that branched straight through the living room and the balcony.

Roan Montgomery's unwelcome voice sounded downright odd in this relaxed setting. It shook Sarah how unprepared she was for this call, his greeting jolting her back down to earth from her holiday mood. She hadn't had to think about anything related to him for these five days, and hopefully for two more after this before they had to fly back home.

"Impressive choice of tactics, Agent Walker," he said smoothly after her silence, his voice distorted by the long distance between them. "Well done. I didn't think you had the patience to complete your assignment this way."

"Thank you," Sarah said uneasily, testing him quickly to discern his angle.

Roan chuckled indulgently. "I just wanted to remind you your time is running out. But you look like you're well on your way to completing your exam."

Sarah stayed silent; her mind frantically racing through potential replies that would make her seem like these few days with Chuck Bartowski's family had been part of a calculated plan she was in perfect control of.

"Honestly, I didn't think you'd take the route of getting close as a friend and then seducing him," he remarked airily. "But it's worked so far, hasn't it? It's a very clever way of getting things done, by keeping Larkin and Bartowski's family on your side."

Montgomery sounded quite delighted. "You've demonstrated a commendable mastery of long-term integration into a mark's life, which is an extremely valuable skill. I'll be sure to mention your dedication to my superiors in my report."

"Thank you, sir," she said finally forced out vacantly, her voice sounding strange to her own ears. Collecting herself, Sarah cleared her throat, injecting some pride and confidence into her reply. "It was all part of the plan."

.

_Hey! You're playing with my delirium_  
_ And the longer I wait the harder I'm gonna fall_  
_ Stop! playing with my delirium_  
_ Coz I'm outa my head and outta my self control_

* * *

Ignore the timeline, it's screwed up and I'm going to try fix it soon or come up with one for people. It's actually two years between them meeting and getting married... well that WAS the plan, but I think people have mistaken the dates because I usually put years and not months, so it seems like one year just because I didn't mention it was the BEGINNING of the year and they thought it was the END :)

Well, all I can say is… I think It's Complicated doesn't fit into the whole 'theme' of Chuck anymore. This was written during the depressing non-Charah time, so I guess I'll put up whatever I've got written left and we'll say adieu!


	13. Fake update

Sorry, this isn't an update. Please feel free to ignore :)


	14. Fake

Sorry, this isn't an update. Please feel free to ignore :) And no, it's not to see who's still interested in this, I have a perfectly good reason to upload several blank chapters. Seriously. Sorry if you were expecting a chapter. Pretty much given up on that, seems most people have too :D

But hey, hi to the people who commented on the first blank page. Hope everything's going awesome!

By the way, anonymous people: Lala and rjsha1, ping me your email addy or whatever :)


	15. Fake again

Sorry, this isn't an update. Please feel free to ignore :) And no, it's not to see who's still interested in this, I have a perfectly good reason to upload several blank chapters. Seriously. Sorry if you were expecting a chapter. Pretty much given up on that, seems most people have too :D

But hey, hi to the people who commented on the first blank page. Hope everything's going awesome!

By the way, anonymous people: Lala and rjsha1, ping me your email addy or whatever :)


End file.
